Anne Symons

      content warning: rape He wrote on the ground (John 8:8)   a finger in the dust      grit under nail grubby     sun-hardened skin little ridges in the soil     stones pushed aside an earthy writing slate curled or straight     I never knew my...

Sharon Phillips

      Salvatrix Mundi It’s hard to be Jesus with the housework to do and the world to care for all on her own. She’s stopped going to bed. Once the ironing’s done she’ll nod off in her chair. She wakes up about four alert for earthquakes or...

Matthew M. C. Smith

      Sometimes, a Man Could Cry Sometimes, I just hold my head, clasping its wreck of metal. It is just enough to keep the spine and chest upright, just enough to wire the jaw into a fixed smile and fuse and screw up bones; just enough to keep up. The...

Clare Currie

      Roses Wielding secateurs on Saturday I hack at roses, urging the blackspot to be gone and setting the straggling thorns in check. My mind turns to you and how I trained you to eat the undergrowth, to chew meadowsweet, parade mushrooms like...