Kate Hendry

      At Home with Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy White lilies wilt in the window of number four Park Road. A paper lamp’s stranded in space. No one’s ever in. On my way home from school I invent owners: glamourous Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy from the...

Jan Norton

      The Next Day I talk to pepper seedlings in their earthen pots, water their soil with gathered rain, tell them of the hope in their beginning I am the dark morning, edged with light. They tell me in Spanish of their home, talk of cool verandas and...

Simon Alderwick

      clutch you catch her in the night a pale moon asking you her name in your sleep your eyes wander and she pinches you she cleanses old fires no need for a past to speak of she’s got some lipstick on her tooth or is that your blood? it’s...

Fiona Cartwright

      Eight days The kneewoman comes to lift him from the safety of his sac into the coffin we made to keep his sleeping form. I nurse him two days after the milk comes in. A week later I walk in gannet shoes, feet silenced by their leather, his jaw...