My father’s watch My father kept his pocket watch trapped in a round, carefully imagined tin; unscrewing the lid constantly to be amazed by the way time would crawl into the dark corners and disappear.   Andrew Turner has just begun to try to write poetry...

  Undone Unwrapped and warm again, laid still, but sleeping still; pulled up through the bulbs and windmills and worms and wood. Us, warped open on the seam. Love thickening along the wound. Time pulled backwards; an unruly child of years and hours and minutes,...

  groundwater i will never be as innocent as i was then. as ripe as this root, as sound as a lock of mistletoe to its tree. i will never be as thirsty. i will never again be as near to gods. when i walk back into my phantasies, shoes shed, my palms sweetly...

    Secondhand He lived a well-meaning secondhand life, pants and shirt and soul a hand-me-down, ideas and thoughts the spitting image of someone else's until that day when old wares are thrown away, the growing becomes hard, and lips part to say something...

  Sibling I helped my mother pick ripe gooseberries loaded with their bitter seeds. She straightened up rested her hand on her vast belly - my sun was blotted out.   I saw my mother rushed to hospital in a screaming ambulance. Days later she came home with a...