After Dinner We take up our positions either side of the mantelpiece – he’s in his rocking-chair behind The Times, mouth moving, no sound; I’m counting stitches, the pattern, the history; outside, applause: hailstones on flagstones, then silence...

      bats under the bridge a broad vault but too low to skirt its flowing floor by weed-cramped margins awareness of great weight above the suspended stones unhomely cut short shelter damp through-draught echoes a paradise of reverse for night-bats...

      Out of office auto-response desks morph into surplus femurs stalking unlit rooms    chairs are pelvises minus a sense of swing walls creep further apart each day carpet oceans lap workstations nobody needs to raise a voice now on the executive...

      Once upon a time there was a word that was sick of its meaning the way it was said and said like a wet cloth carelessly slapping a table. What a tearjerker of a word it was. It barely knew what it meant anymore like it had collapsed from...

      Thread It was gold thread curled tight around a possessive spindle. It was waiting to unspool itself to bind and shape this to that. It had never been in a labyrinth and was not afraid of the dark.     Colin Pink has published two...

      Smoky   Mother chain-smoked, leaving lipsticked butts in plastic ashtrays, where they sent up wisps for hours. Now, wildfires out west blow their dark clouds of sadness eastward to muddy the skies over Lake Michigan that used to be blue. I...

      Mucky fingers A wild daffodil bulb wilts at my feet dug up by a dog. I scrape my fingers into the loam, resettle it in the riverbank. At twilight, two children crouch over a fish – it flaps on the path. There! the boy digs into the wound with his...

      Double Life In the Christmas vacation I work two jobs: an early shift at the sorting office; a late shift at a restaurant. In my daybreak life I become an expert on London postcodes. At night I learn to balance things on my wrists – three plates,...

      film stars we don’t go to parties in dark sunglasses we keep our mouths closed we stand under neon lights with tall cocktails clothed in navy blue your arm is shadowy under the peach tree listen we could make it in los angeles leave secret...