Helen Calcutt

      A conversation with my daughter about my brother’s suicide She is awake. The moon is bright and the clouds have parted. The trees are painted trees, living a still life. She tells me my brother is in the moon. I’ve bathed her, given her milk and...

Jacob Silkstone

      Night Train It seems so long ago, now, that I took the night train across the border aware only of the fury to flee anywhere, the numb indifference towards the destination. Does it matter to you where I started from? Since then, every journey has...

Sharon Phillips

    &nbsp: Something’s wrong This is how it will start: from the other side of a room you’ll hear your mum talk, loud but so fast you won’t be able to follow and she will see you’re looking so she’ll come over and pull you aside. Listen to me, she will...

Linda Rose Parkes

      A True Version honest to god i can’t bear to look at myself in the mirror i stalk her she’s my new poem in her fitted coat and high heels on the number 10 bus         put bars on the lines last night i told him Megan’s seeing a married guy in the...

Rachel Burns

      Truth The defendant’s elderly mother tells you she can’t hear very well. You listen to the graphic descriptions of the child images her son viewed on his computer like a punch in the stomach. You have children, you are a mother. His mother’s face...