Cal O’Reilly

      Portbou After Mary Jean Chan Reminded of my body by the climb I feel the sun, its love and anger, a baked red brick rubbed on the back of my calves. Hiking in a binder was a shit idea, My lungs reach to surface, come short. There’s a sweat mirage...

Chloe Hanks

      the feminine urge to murder a lover over breakfast because he talked over you at last night’s dinner party. swallowing remarks like dripping yolk, whilst he sips his tea brewed with love— and arsenic. the feminine urge to wash his whites with the red...

Avaughan Watkins

      Trearddur Bay Everything was slate. Outside, the rain made barnacles of water on the wooden slats and waves jumped like giddy children onto the stones. Jellyfish loomed, a cove of beached moons. You stood in your room for hours a rock pool waiting...

Maggie Mackay

      Dad You reach the end of the garden path and open the gate. I wait at the door. You reach the vestibule with its mosaic tiled floor with a big hug for me. Daddy’s girl, always. Tea done, you fetch Glen’s lead and we climb the hill to the spread of...