Jane Campbell

      Polyamory Did you mean me to hear this you in a lift loving her, both of you yawning in the foreign morning light, tired after clubbing all night in modisch Berlin? I speak, screech really, try to alert you to the concealed me in your pocket but...

Abeer Ameer

      Noor’s Song His heart sings with each song of Noor until the day she loses her voice. Six-year-old with no speech only mime at a time before endoscopes reach Karbala. Noor skips, plays with her dolls as before whispers unlettered air. Her parents...

Sue Kindon

      Don’t Tell Once, in the confinement, word went round of a gathering, that night, in the ruined Auberge du Roi. Twenty minutes, the woodland way, a half moon in two minds, but what the heck? And then, spilling from unglazed openings, the...

Denise O’Hagan

      Until Later, I marvelled at where I’d been until that moment I looked out the window and saw you watching me from across the pebbled yard, the cicadas thrumming my heart like a violin, the shimmering heat miraging the fields of yellow wheat, and...

Olivia Tuck

      I Think My Poem About You is Unfinished, says Sal. How so? I ask her, and she says, there are just things I want to add. Like how you suck your thumb, how you pace the room, and how you smudge your eyeliner when you cry, and your dresses, I’ve got...