Fumes Everyone goes to the harvest – men, women, and children leave at dawn, as soon as the fog changes colour. It’s safer then, but beyond the stockade, they still wear masks and gloves. Except for the woman at the front – her mouth is free. She...

      Bear Bear, you’re a mouth that breathes while it chews and you spray your wisdom on bits of bread Bear you’re a man who lives fast and loose with a loneliness cavernous inside your head Bear can I ask you to eat your own tongue when you spy bought...

    a solitary word when i feel lonely, i let hot water melt my iceberg body and disappear into the drain. it meets all kinds of ruined creatures there; we sit together by the fire, holding our flared up hands, and see that void is not so empty after all,...

    Floodgate The first sight was a sound from a high valley it didn’t know itself it curled around corners a tree swayed gently and the water touched the low branches  first a gentle flow then faster a double wave but no crest no breaking surf it passed...

      Tree of Jesse for Durgesh Born here that street with the hole in the middle was it I or you digging finds on a bombsite on my knees hands buried in roots Surrounded by grave goods suppress in yourself the idea of merit head of the great warrior in...

      Manual For Bereavement Clearances There’ll be Bibles. Multiple Bibles. Mementoes of a porcelain era: plates and china, knives and forks in Sheffield-stickered boxes. Decide if the dead are at rest. Talk to them, the previous inhabitants, justify...

      Stocktaking In Scots law, the foreshore is defined as the area between the high and low water marks of ordinary spring tides… and is presumed to be owned by ancient right by the Crown. - Fifth Report of the Scottish Affairs Committee, 2014 Head...

      The Picture A bird made a sound like a fist on our window. Mum tiptoed towards it as if it was sleeping then cupped it in her hand. Just a baby warm and silent. She stroked it talked to it wandered around with it still in her hand – still, in her...

    Chris Kinsey grew up in rural Herefordshire but always wanted to head for the hills  in Shropshire and Wales. After a degree in Yorkshire, she settled in Mid-Wales. She’s had five collections of poetry published. Her most recent: From Rowan Ridge was...