Helen Evans

      And sit with the dark In response to Stand in the Light by Elizabeth Rimmer And sit with the dark, when it comes. Smell the wax and the wick – watch its small orange tip glow brighter then fade into black. See the ghost of its flame on your...

Robert Hirschfield

      Water & Mud   The water in its lonely bowl beneath your bed, drawn from where? You were drawn from the mud in January. From the mud.     Robert Hirschfield is a New York-based poet and writer about poetry. He has been widely...

Anne Symons

      Building a fire My mother is kneeling by the hearth tearing strips from the West Briton rolling them round her fingers. I see the Penroses had their Silver Wedding. She lays the twisted paper criss-cross in the grate, newspaper ink smudges her...

Kathleen Strafford

      Childhatcheries   Even I keep secrets shhh     I’m in love with fingers caressing my insides feeling coils fiddling with my fan I live by touch by brink a contract between      love       grief & up to elbows nurses in soapy rubber gloves...

Chloe Balcomb

      My Great Great Grandfather was a shipwrecked Swedish sailor, with sea legs and river hands, forearms like binding strakes. A stanchion of a man, he worked the waters of the bustling Thames, was ship’s labourer then Lighterman, loading cargo and...