Violette Rose-Jones

      No Neighbours that We Know of Around Here my husband smiles in his sleep I could spend the rest of my life here then he rolls over, settling back to slow, calm breathing. this house is echoing-empty. wind rips  up the valley, up this hill, beneath...

Michael Estabrook

    At McDonald’s An attractive employee with mussed hair pacing outside smoking a cigarette two construction workers discussing in simple Beckettesque lines the difficult old lady impossible to please with either woodworking or painting the family pulling...

Adrian Slatcher

    Scott in the Burnt House Even brick may burn, and bone – Fire has an elemental power. Then stay in the burned out house. Rescue what you can from the ravages For what can survive the flames? Take a taper to your memories. Later, I cannot linger on the...

Marc Woodward

      Wipers Sometimes he writes for no reason. Yeah, you think, I’ve seen the type. Drunk late at night, bottle drained, some fuzzy lexicon scrabbled in his brain. You’d be wrong. Last week when he was sane and fully sober he just took off...