Col Fleetwood

      Muckle Flugga   Unmoored on an ocean of heather no wind to pluck the strings of the aeolian harp Policed by the unsettling glare of nesting great skuas we tread the narrow path The boardwalk rises and falls under a sky empty and scoured of song To...

Amlanjyoti Goswami

      Morning Beach in Gopalpur Those night boats are back. Fishermen string their nets Counting fresh catch. The fish stink. Flies buzz around crabs. They are knocking hammer on wood. I want to take a few steps more To see what’s going on – Find them...

Amirah Al Wassif

      The Double My double sits before me now. I stare deep into her, as I do every day after midnight. When I raise my hands, she raises hers. When I wink with my right eye, she winks back. My childish braid sticks its tongue out at us both....

Sophie Lankarani

      Dear Iran after Sholeh Wolpé Even though I only once traced your streets with my own feet, you wandered into my dreams anyway sliding in through my grandmother’s stories, drifting out of the steam of her afternoon tea searching for a place to...

Mark A. Hill

      Marseilles Road -She calls him up- She wills his brush in colour, and chalking, fierce hued flaws, which fall flat on the canvas, She uses a dark outline and replaces his image with cholic fumes. -He doesn’t pick up- He wants to place her in two...