Jenny Moroney

      Part We didn’t expect it to snow but look it falls in soft flakes. Alone now, we leave the cottage between white folds and aim at mountains. You walk ahead: a gap, I leave and over your footprints, I press my own. We follow the stream winter...

Colin Pink

      Lions in Translation We, at the International Lion Translation Centre, do not believe: If a lion could speak we would not understand him.   Through our outreach programme our dedicated team of translators, at considerable personal risk, have found...

Karen Downs Barton

    Paper Doll The woman practised control on paper dolls, renditions of perfection in children seen but not heard. She bound their chests in liberty bodices attached with tabs, displayed them in dioramas of salvaged boxes. She wished they had more...

Aidan Semmens

      From The Jazz Age The man in the high castle In his elegant turret attic, Tycho Brahe turns the page, turns it back, then back again. No matter how closely he peers at the drawings, or how intently he attempts to recreate in his mind’s eye every...

Jonathan Rosen

      Dog In the dog days of this dog’s breakfast world, you remain dogged in your doggy ways; face licker, arse sniffer, purveyor of fetid breath, oblivious to squalor, fantastically lavish with  affection. Incapable of guile or guilt, your...