by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Mar 23, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Buried That winter the snow kept rising, a slow white wall climbing the windows, each morning untouched, the whole world muffled under it. A hush so complete it felt like a hand pressed gently over the mouth. I pulled on my snow pants, my jacket....
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Mar 22, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Bureaucracies of Water I’ve been reading about ghost apples. They are a real phenomenon, like how everyone we can see on the wide street outside this building is still living, managing thus far, attending appointments, the fissures in their...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Mar 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
THE APPRENTICE OF GROUNDHOG DAY I tried to work from a van. Sitting in the passenger seat listening to a guy whistle. His frown, a cloud he lost when his mother died. Each wrinkle he laid as mortar on a wall. More bricks, more weight. I’d watch...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
wild cows Those full udders will slowly burst spitting milk onto the grass strands. Will roll down to feed the roots below. Then the weeds will follow. Weeds will grow next spring. Weeds will unfold as bulbous udders without holes – un-milked –...
by Helen Ivory | Mar 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Killing Time at the cider farm, eight minutes before handover, we strike on feeding the donkeys – and sprint towards the orchard, only realising in the 5:23 dusk that this is winter, the boughs fruitless, donkeys stabled – that beside ourselves...
