Siobhan Ward

      The Longhouse The Renault rocks left to right, waddles up an unmade road, squeezes through the trees. Now I see it – a low-slung, stocky, lengthy, extended longère and, at right angles, ancient barns remodelled with stone, glass, wood. My...

Robin Houghton

      I’m looking through a lattice of magnolia  not yet ready to blow open its thousand furring buds— every year the same urgency—same innocence— on an anniversary serious enough for champagne and a room with mullioned windows—the view outside is...

Lesley Graham

  Lesley Graham lives in Bordeaux where she is a lecturer at the university. She is originally from Scotland and started writing poetry relatively recently.

Robert Nisbet

      Red Sky in the Morning Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning. Country proverb Our family does weddings. When Rosalie married, first time round, and the cars assembled for the drive, it was in fact a...

Kayleigh Cassidy

      The Glass Door Before I knew it, I was crying in front of my entire dance class. Thirty women and two men in neon active wear, staring at me as I tried to explain why I was late. ‘Are you okay?’ a woman with braids asked. ‘The glass door hit me,’...

Meg Pokrass and Jeff Friedman (collaboration)

      A Bit of Dignity His guest from Scotland dawdled getting to the shower and by the time she arrived, it wasn’t there. Instead, there was a hologram of a shower, one that didn’t leak. The water came down in soft, warm drops, perfect for taking a...