by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 24, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Well after Thomas A Clark when the people are gone and the wooden house has been burned down to recover its nails for a short while afterwards there may flourish a small orchard and a well blinking at the sky Mark Rutter’s poems have appeared in...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 22, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Why don’t you eat pork? If you don’t believe in God, my friend says, why don’t you eat pork? I have no answer for her. I have only the blue-tacked mezuzah stuck to the doorway of my bedroom, the dried wax still wedged in stubborn clots ...
by Sabine Wilson-Patrick | Sep 21, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Undertow On my phone a newsreel shows a car boot lifting just above the flood. Tail lights like eyes caught in a comic gasp, while its body, like the carriageway, lies under sixty million litres of last night’s rain. Walking through town we...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 20, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Summer’s End Today I tipped the packet of coffee into the cafetiere instead of the tin. Caught myself in time, didn’t pour water in. I’ve started to write notes to myself: Shut bathroom window. Lock back door. Yesterday at the bank I couldn’t...
by Helen Ivory | Sep 19, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Summers in black Who’s idea was it? I think his, as I’d started wearing everything from Oxfam. Among my finds collarless shirts. There was I and my clique, ourselves fearfully fresh, seeking out lived-in things, clothing with more history than us....
by Helen Ivory | Sep 18, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Going down to do lights and curtains to fool any burglars Twilight: one after another security lights click on illuminating pathways, steps, empty front lawns, triggered by my benign progress, then, disappointed, click off. The sky is a layer cake...
