Gwen Sayers

      Her Funeral Clouds spit on the coffin, wring oily rags, splash a woman, her violin cased in sunken purple. I wade with the others through the mud clench, she’s beyond now, until the weight of her. My eyes hide behind dark. Damp pallbearers lower...

Dave Wynne-Jones

      Sonnet And did she break your heart? A woman asks, perhaps imagining A fallen chalice scattering Fragments about the tiles, only discovered Days later in corners underfoot. But there was no suddenness More a growing sense of doom A shrivelling of...

Simon Maddrell

      Bringing Pilates to Attention Four years in Knockaloe was a living inspiration for inventor Joseph Pilates. His self-contained exercise in mental- physical health spawned a method which he called Contrology — corrective drills grown within the...

Tom Kelly

      Save Me   At thirteen I am competing with James Joyce, encouraging pain, at the very least discomfort. See me fervently praying, waiting to receive the Communion host. My knees more than ache, then burn, I bless the wooden pew causing this...

Nick McGaughey

      Slow Worm And here you are slid from the rain under my door, “s” -ing along the cool checks in the hallway. I’ve had slugs silvering the skirting, a hissing squirrel cornered by the stove, even a mouse that made his den next to the cat food… but...