Arun Sharma

      Chop Chop Suey Village life. The only buzz, outside the Chinese after nine. The Garden of Tranquility. Chop Chop jabbers a lot; to his mates; to passers by; at the cops. Always tryin’ to get a laugh goin’, but never venturing far from that neon...

Caroline Natzler

      Marjorie She keeps a nest of voices buried in the turf stows puffball girls in her pockets looks at the sky and waits for life to come round again.     Caroline Natzler’s first collection Design Fault (Flambard Press) was published...

Helen Addy

      Peeoy In a dictionary with scorched edges, my daughter finds the Scottish word for homemade firework, a twisted cone of gunpowder, lit at the top. Darkening the room, and removing small animals, she fires the syllables into the air, whistling...

Angela Readman

    The Last Chorus Girl of the West She is a long way from the old saloon, the boarded windows of Father’s face, the self playing piano like a harmonica in the pocket of a hanging man – still making scraps of songs of the air. The drawl’s gone,...