Nuala Watt

      Disabled Person’s Travel Card Council, council, let me on the bus That you let me on last week. Oh no Ms Watt, you can’t go on the bus For we don’t know where you live. So off I went to get proof of address And I thought I’d sorted out the mess...

Finola Scott

      Testing times My bones scold-heavy, heartsick I drag my eyes anywhere – to the funeral wax of lilies, to the boastful damselflies confident in their beauty. I refuse to look at, to acknowledge, that Chair, waiting to test. Solid. I...

Alexander Etheridge

      Lost is the Story Everyone loses their time at the same rapid speed—it’s like flying shrapnel, or a quickly strobing light. We’re all moving into another life, another dying. The oceans feel it too— and every tree churns quietly in its center with...

Juliet Humphreys

      Mrs Hitchcock Takes a Bath I’m not so sure about showers — if you must know it’s the sound how it rushes, pounding, drowning everything and, dear, sometimes — I know it’s probably only the pipes — but sometimes it screams so I’ll just take a bath...

Rachel Curzon

      Mrs Yeats’ Love Letters from the Other Side Mrs Yeats slackens carefully in her comfortable front room. Perhaps her slow arm drags a lace antimacassar from a sofa back. Perhaps her lips part in an O. Mrs Yeats unfolds and sags. Where is Mr Yeats?...