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    The depressed girl makes a smoothie Strawberries. Cut them up into pebble-sized pieces. They’re supposed to go out of date in three days but one of them already has mould growing on it. It reminds me of the sky I see through my bedroom window on a mostly...

    The Cost of Living after Deborah Levy His hair was not silver and not pinned into a bun. I’ve been reading it over and over. Obsession over something harmless must be a good thing. It’s a book, safe, I’ve been told. A woman saying things I like to hear,...

    Homing I My mum used to say that when she died she wanted to come back as a well looked after cat.  Two weeks before, for Christmas, I bought her a cat onesie.  We assumed she would be spending plenty of time on the sofa with our tabbies – enough for the...

      Shadowtime Romney Marsh, Kent, February, 1287 That night a slice of moon rose, mottled red like a scratched wound. The sea was torched, wind-charged. We heard the tide roar twice across the Marsh and knew it was here, the hour of the dead. Hulls...

      from: Seize i. I fear my poor old soul may be a fixer upper. I strive to find out – it’s that forensic streak I have, I suppose – by too often drinking on an empty stomach. There’s a view afoot, I think, that a proper soul needs proper seasoning....

      Home Front For days after the children leave for their homes in the South we discover unexcavated battlefields, nonsensical as Towton. Small formations of infantrymen guard the lower book-case shelves, lone snipers lurk behind the curtains, and...

      Roses The postman was my friend, rang the bell, wouldn’t leave until he’d reached me, handed me broken stems of roses — thorny with their heads at crooked angles, buds that tried but only turned to rusty paper. They’d found you by the postbox...

      Voicemail Sarah is away next week so would like to speak to me today if it’s convenient and not too much trouble. She wants to go over some of the finer details and explain how things will generally go from here. Sarah needs to check she’s...

      Seagulls They would shred morning open from 3 a.m, jangling keys in their beaks, an hour after the last scatter of drunks had sung their way home. Every layer of black plastic flayed, pavements strewn with rot, the week split open like the belly...

      Miss Blackbird Good morning bird I hear a blackbird in the morning I hear a blackbird in the morning Sat out eating my breakfast I see a blackbird in the morning I see a blackbird in the morning Gathering sticks and twigs I smile at a blackbird in...

      Coffin Road Boots and minds pound heavy up the steep grassy track. We speak of how many men it would take to shoulder grief’s weight, pale with effort and the thought of body within box hauled high over stone, ground and mud. It is hard enough to...

      from Ache After the world ended A rain of fire woke the night. Under blazing umbrellas a rat-like scurry ensued. Dawn rose bleak; the sun eclipsed by a black ring, a circle of surprise. From the sky came a red mare riding the clouds, descending on...

    Kingley Vale Down the chalk track slick as soap. Wade the long grass in the meadow, bludgeon swinging, bag of stoats. Rabbit in my fingers squealing, into the grove of the gods I go. Old gods. Half-dead and never dying. Sucking needles, spitting berries....