Claire Berlyn

      I really don’t care about butterflies after Kim Addonizio (with a line from Nabokov)     I don’t really care about butterflies, especially when they land in poems except when a Red Admiral gets lost in the great grey fields of the...

Aidan Semmens

The ash tree A superb winter sunrise backlights edges of cloud tinting sky above and bay below the palest blue, hints of gold glistening on the water. Beneath a faint sliver of rainbow a young ash, bold denier of dieback pushing through a broken wall wears a light...

Gail Webb

    How To Remain Human This Year     We give a throwaway kiss to strangers, to see New Year in. We plant the seed with hope it will grow, form fruit, to feed us. We put a pound in the tin or a direct debit for life. We dispense sympathy,...

Valentine Jones

CANNIBALISE THE CORRUPTION, I GUESS Ok? Everyone’s dying. You’re not special. You’ve a Tree in your stomach, Splitting the roof of your mouth, Leaves curled around teeth, and your skull Cracking like an ancient castle? Nothing I haven’t seen...

Amanda Coleman White

      Lockdown       Seven turkey vultures with grasping fingers, their feathers splayed wide along a black fence, the day after I veer around yellow tape and red lights, the news of children murdered once again, every ten days more death...