Martin Redfern

    The tone of your voice I watch you answer the phone. From the tone of your voice, I realise it’s over.   I hear the tenderness I had understood was mine. You run your fingers through your hair, The breeze unsettling your dress. I comb your exquisite...

Fiona Donaghey

      Going Home   The house has grown small and fragile. The ghosts at the top of the stairs are now cupboards   holding dolls that are strange and worn and familiar,   they suffocate the  excitement of childhood.   Somewhere inside...