Eirene Gentle

      Flower tongue Daffodils hate being shoved in corners. When forced they emit a peculiar scent, part butter, part ulcer. I wear yellow shoes because I don’t like corners either but I am frequently left in them, and so I exude a peculiar smell. You...

Brandon Arnold

      Dusk Was Yesterday Alone, I drive along the midnight, winter road. My left hand at the 12 o’clock position of the steering wheel. And I coast. I let out the day’s long breath, which started out today as a sigh. Somewhere off in the distance,...

Stephanie Feeney

      Ode to Remission My mother is here, and might not have been, so I hold things tighter: the small-getting-smaller of her running with my daughter down the beach, every conch and whelk they gather, the scar tissue just peeking out of her swimsuit,...

Anna Fernandes

      Glove My stubby maroon glove spent a chill night on the velvet ridge of Clent Hills tangled in summer-dried grasses and snapped seed heads, pecked at sniffed at and tumbled among crusty rabbit droppings. Cuff sheltering tucked-in snails and slugs,...

Jo Eades

      Bin Day It’s Wednesday and / again / I’m laying pages of newspaper on the kitchen table / tipping up the food waste bin / scattering teabags and potato peelings and orange pith in a pile / and wrapping it up like chips from the chippy / so the...

Sue Butler

      Pilates Zoom We cultivate the knack of getting down on the floor and back up three or four times each day. The constellation of cables, chips and thin air through which our leader observes us is mysterious as prayer, more predictable, precise....