Sarah Nabarro

      Smile Your smile Woke something – Up. If you knew, You would hate me: Being, this, or that – One thing, or another, I’m not, But love, Mirrored in your smile, I felt it then.     Sarah Nabarro lives in London with her husband and small...

Mike Wilson

      The Heart Intervenes, a Dream Poem We are four strangers learning to live together in a new suburb where streets are names from the past. “Good morning!” I precipitate crisis in the kitchen by eating biscuits when no one else thought to bring...

Emily Veal

      boudicca you’re a brewery down the road i drank a bottle of your finest on the train back from bury st edmunds the red queen (no one will call you ginger) i see you everywhere realised you were also the wetherspoons round the corner the one with...

Lesley Burt

      Confluence  Stour springs from greensand into lakes marbled with lily-pads hosts to hazes of dragonflies & pseudo-Roman reflections glides sixty-one miles seaward past the rare Black Poplar meanders through chalk      clay      heathland...

Sam Szanto

      Memories are squirming prehistoric creatures burrowing under my clothes, enlivened by tea in that mug that matches your eyes, Revolutionary Road shown on TV, the airline ticket from our Paris trip leading to le labyrinthe, feet blistered trying to...