Karin Molde

      Fortuna rolls the dice in Tumahole Free State, South Africa I have never seen a baby so tiny outside a womb. You hold her jigsaw of bones in a blanket, afraid to scatter the pieces in case they’d sail like seeds onto the road. A dung beetle rolls...

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...

Amirah Al Wassif

      Meeting a Fig Tree I know a fig tree walks in beauty singing a fair song as soon as my heart beats. She uses elevators & electric stairs. People are astonished by her actions, but she doesn’t even bother to argue with them. She is very...