Hello

      I Want to Become a weasel, in a sleeky, twisty body, all eyes and teeth like a deadly zip. I would have become a badger in preference, but they have been having a bad time around here, through no fault of their own, shot for being badgers. So...

      Secret Society I joined a secret society advertised in the back pages of a magazine. I forget which, but I found it nestled in 8pt font and fancy border between time share apartments in Lanzarote and the commemorative plates. Yours for just three...

      dance dance revolution long weekend ← or ← perhaps ↑ summer holiday → from the back of someone’s car boot ↑ the strange → sweated plastic all pink and blue and folded → arrows stacked and pointing towards themselves↓ like meeting for the first...

      Ripe We’re drinking wine in your kitchen, months before the hot oil of my concern begins to spit. I’m telling a story with both hands while you chop garlic, drain another glass. Over dinner we make up theories for the new pint glass squatting in...

      Skin deep You notice the crepe of your neck and belly first. This skin you bake in the sun. At least your stomach hides it’s nudity most of the time. You start using factor fifty face cream and tell yourself you don’t mind the deep crease between...

      Watching the ‘Strictly’ Results Show on a Sunday night   Knowing what we know about the pain of the world, who wins and who loses might feel like a betrayal. Too many sequins, too much glitter, a vacuous distraction          and yet           ...

      Wind Come my love with me alone to inhabit those years again Sean Hewitt, Night Ballad Oh walk with me up the slippery lane when the frost has turned to ice. The wren in the hedge may catch our eye as if flits from twig to twig as it follows us....

      Finding the hill again Wear a coat, you’ll pass through light rain at the wood-edge under Helmeth. Sing loudly, so the snakes can hear you. There’ll be birdcall, leaf-mould, path-fall to the brook. You’ll splash the ford and settle to the slope....

      Nature Is Healing “If humans are the virus, pandemic is the cure.” I think capitalism is the virus. We humans are still here. - Naomi Klein It constructs membranes between its most powerful organs, filters pathogens hidden in boats. It despatches...

      When I read my poem about stretch marks you said it was a funny thing to write about. I felt a flare, low down, an orange hazed ember you’d have to blow into life. Because they’re not very nice to look at you said. The flame caught, scorched...

      Promised a Hedgehog, We Wait in Your Garden Our bodies hinge into smallness, my back pressed into the shelter. Street voices fade, radios are muted, we count house lights twinkle out one by one. On the edge of sleep it comes snuffling through leaf...

      Blown Away The Victorian spinning wheel at the top of the stairs was carved in South Wales around the time this house was built. Somewhere in the carpenter’s breath was a flicker of the blue I chose for the walls when I stripped them to go with...

      Abreast Wait, I'm talking. It's my turn. Be patient. It takes me a while. I have to work it out. I will keep it short. You see I've lived a while, learnt a few things, for example clichés are true but not always. Listen to your friends, to your...

        On My Evening Walk Down Walworth Rd For anyone considering going on T I’m ready for your future self to walk right up to me. I am certain that I will recognize you because I’ve been practicing! As night falls like a slow curtain onto...

      the feminine urge to murder a lover over breakfast because he talked over you at last night’s dinner party. swallowing remarks like dripping yolk, whilst he sips his tea brewed with love— and arsenic. the feminine urge to wash his whites with the red...

      Trearddur Bay Everything was slate. Outside, the rain made barnacles of water on the wooden slats and waves jumped like giddy children onto the stones. Jellyfish loomed, a cove of beached moons. You stood in your room for hours a rock pool waiting...

      Dad You reach the end of the garden path and open the gate. I wait at the door. You reach the vestibule with its mosaic tiled floor with a big hug for me. Daddy’s girl, always. Tea done, you fetch Glen’s lead and we climb the hill to the spread of...

      Smile Your smile Woke something – Up. If you knew, You would hate me: Being, this, or that – One thing, or another, I’m not, But love, Mirrored in your smile, I felt it then.     Sarah Nabarro lives in London with her husband and small...