Ali Whitelock

    the cumquats of christmas past you hailed your taxi tuesday the eight–– eenth of february 2014 at four twenty seven p.m. i watched it approach swerve to the kerb its back doors fly open––if this was death i saw it crouched behind the wheel & jaded as...

Joanne Key

    Mrs Winter Comes Home A whisker above zero, she appears on Slaughter Lane. Glass-winged in the glow of fairy lights, she falls to Earth as a dark, silk slip of a thing, drifting in, soft as baby breath. Poor lamb. Her body pools on the floor outside the...

Alexandra Citron

    Let Streetview take you home for the holidays Hitching a white arrow up Saffold Way the trees are all too tall. It’s garbage day. The blue door to the old house stands ajar but should be orange and the street wider where in summer small feet ran over...

Russell Jones

      Salt ‘n’ Oats This could help you live forever: warm the water in a milk pan, add your oats, stir in salt, let it rest. Take breakfast in the woods: listen to the birds, find a house ridden with hair. Test the beds. Should you be woken, run. Don’t...