Henry Wilkinson

      Search Party Damp October grass left watercolour Brush strokes on my grey Golas As the path retreated behind us like a shrinking quayside. We scouted the undergrowth like a crime-scene Armed with pictures from a stranger’s Instagram, Placing...

Alan Humm

      My father is calling the neighbours names Out on the grass my father is calling the neighbours names. It is his art. Softly, he starts to mourn. The sky’s a mild suburban blue, each lawn so circumspect it’s like a stamp, but he is being moved by...

Julia Stothard

      Soliloquy O little sister. little lark. little mischief never to be found out. How your broad smile is a quartered melon and answers drip from my chin. O little mirror. little wheel. little carriage into the universe next door. How we ride...

Amanda Coleman White

      Sovereignty Taking on the role of battle goddess, I rush toward nightly war cries upstairs as offspring wrestle. I turn corvid, oil-slick wings hovering as laughter turns savage. Bruises blossom springlike; I can predict the outcome every time. A...

Gaynor Kane

      The Memory Bank i. Rows of multi-coloured tallboys, tarnished brass drawer-pull-handles like the waning gibbous moon. Hardwood needing a rub with wire wool and beeswax. A dispensary of memories – the ones you mine your mind for. Make withdrawals...

Elizabeth Chadwick Pywell

      daily it’s translation & catching yourself & navigating polite surprise & over-explaining & the judicious use of partner & when they do the same it’s wondering & a pause while you consider how shocked they’ll be if you say...