Laura Gibbs

      Daffodils  Smarmy cunts. Hiding from me, in chattering spheres, year-round spectres of a season delayed. Budding in a darkness unknown – I will remember numbness. A yellow that melts, butter upon frost, their smooth openings jar in the...

Rachel Bruce

      Snowdrops I remember you from my crayon days. Clung about the tree like children to a maypole, you held green secrets close, the magic of the changing seasons folded in your petals. In the months before my mother died I anticipated you with...

Catherine Redford

      Death’s Head Moth The effect is to produce the most superstitious feelings among the uneducated, by whom it is always regarded with feelings of awe and terror. ‘The Death’s-Head Hawk-Moth’, in Edward Newman’s An Illustrated Natural History of...

Jessa Brown

      Wulf and Eadwacer’s Daughter Make Meatballs after the Old English poem   Jessa Brown, a UEA creative writing MA student, has been an Acumen Young Poet. Her work has been published in the Brixton Review of Books, The Mays, and Young Writers,...

Vasiliki Albedo

      Our Country   Our house was a country my parents founded but none of us were citizens. Nights, the corridor’s iron gate was a border, locking us in our rooms. My mother was both state and warden. I wrapped a hair around my diary before leaving for...