Maeve Henry

    Someone Else The quilt still smells of you, but your bedroom walls are pocked with blu-tack, football teams all gone. They say you crossed the border, walked into Syria. You will head home, I tell them. As you used to come back from parties, drunk on...

Jonathan Humble

        Glad To Be A Dalek I’m not your average Dalek, You know the sort I mean, All bent on domination; Giving vent to all that spleen. I like to think I’m different From other Dalek crew, Who keep emotions hidden While exterminating...

Christine Whittemore

      The Paper-Wasp I tracked her by the sound her mouthparts made: rasp, rasp, on a dry stick. She straddled it and worked her jaws, reviving something dead, collecting shreds of fibre. Once, in Egypt, strips of plant stem, pressed in crisscross...

Luke Harrison

      The Deer Granted, some beasts are quick. But rounds were cheap as breaths for him that night, and still the ropes were coiled like laughing snakes. I sewed his returning eyes to mine, unstitched, busied myself again. The pattern for a dress drew...