Holly Magill

      Lit up They lift sweetie-sharp glow-stars on tips of licked fingers, glue them, neon scabs, to the inside of her skull – she is lit. Colour-studded, so damned pretty – a reverse Easter egg for the cracking. The grit-stars shoot all night: there is...

Stefanie Bennett

      PSALM 72    Since we’ve ‘bitten The dust’ Our jaws have Grown The most Improbable Prose Garden.         Stefanie Bennett has published several books of poetry, a novel, & a libretto. Of mixed ancestry...

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...

Lark Beltran

    Early Walk to Buy Bread Ficus trees line a long stone wall crisp on morning´s new page, in sunlight just sprung over the hill. Doves coo from the wires above a road all mine before the school cars´takeover. My steps, unhurried, follow as regular a...