New flash fiction by Pippa Goldschmidt

The sky beneath The sun set long ago but she’s still bent over her desk, examining the thousands of stars and galaxies preserved in the photographic plate, like insects in amber.Sixty-four percent of the galaxies on this plate can be classified as spirals, the rest...

Benjamin Morris is seeing through the dark

Blind LightThe path is black, the grass is black,the tendrils of the beech are black,and the water lurking in the brookis the shadow the night casts. And yetwe can still see where we’re goingby the dull persimmon-tinted lightthe city gives off over the hill,stretched...

Jon Tait's father saw Hendrix and The Who

Poacher’s Pocket Crunching slowly through brittle frosted grasswith breath pulled tight in the lungs,the moon peering through gnarled tree branches& glinting icicles thicker than a fingerwhile the green waxed jacket snaps like a sail. My fathaa, hair...

Emily Dening on lost and found poems

A lost poemprickles the tip of your tonguethe back of your throatlike  a coat in mothballswhich you mighthave sent to Oxfamlaughs in your sleepwaking to a glasshalf emptythe memory of a nameyou know it was here somewherewhen you sniff the airthe tang of autumnin...