Julia Webb

      Yearnings StJohns won’t let the crowlight in, only sparrowbeams and antdark. StJohns is over-alive with noise – day and night, it never stops. Owlish stuffs her ears with balled-up toilet paper, buries her head under the sofa cushions. Dadward’s...

Sarah L Dixon

      The Tuesday the world changed for aardvarks I never liked rain. And today it raged. Flooded into the sand that is our bed. It drenched the warm corners where I cuddle with Bert away from daylight. The ants ran from it and I was unable to resist...

Jennie E. Owen

      The Rose Queen Even now, looking at the photos I cannot see myself there, on the edges heels on the curb, with my sister, watching the queens on walking day take a lead behind the mounted police. The brassed bands, the drums the beat and blow of...

Katy Evans-Bush

      From Lines by Kenneth Patchen #48 ‘Yet there will be peace in certain parts of the city; sonnets dripping like moss from the walls; women holding their gifts out, arms, thighs, their quick song…’ — Kenneth Patchen, ‘The Hunted City’ This body of...

Lucy Heuschen

      Discussing Maternity Leave He sits behind his desk, hands folded across his belly, frowning over his expensive specs. His eyes, his shiny crown, his wedding ring. Oh My God, I think. Is he visualising it? Me, shagging? Does he think I’ve neglected...

Abbi Parcell

      FAGGOT pt2 I am more than my shoes, Even the black boots I wear Day in day out to work rubbed smooth on the soles. I am more than the cheap-end shirts That hide my tits and that you Frown at, openly, at the shop, the park, On the bus after a long...