Counting by Ralf Webb

April doesn't rain. We have spent days watching the truant magpies comb our cat-eyed neighbour’s lawn for bottle caps and burnt-out tin foil. The cloying sun has not coaxed...

Real Life by Suzannah Evans

The producers decided things were getting slow so I caught you with Arabella at the charity regatta, delivered a flute of strawberry champagne to your blazer, a...

His Bottom Lip by Rachel Long

Clitoral, like finding a small, hidden part of myself in someone else. Nerve-wet, fleshy - for a white guy, and stained between life-lines with red wine gone black. Only this...

Towpath by Neil Burns

IThe Lagan - a muddy silt river - Barrel of roll-tide, ribs of clean branches Poke up water jutting. On the towpath I glean a warm wet...

Poetry | Translated Love Letters by Andrew McMillan

from Norwegian / oh love, doesn't the fact that the world is so big, / laid out like ripe fruit / make you want to stay? / from Arabic / how I long to cleanse you / in the waters of the Tigris / how I long, as though you were a small and / priceless artefact, / to take you in my arms / from Ant-speak / I will carry you carry you / through legions of grass / protect you from the thumb, / the sole; the eager-feathered bird / will not swoop for you / from American / love is just love, and I'm in it / for the ride, o.k.? that tells me just exactly

Poetry | Full Fathom Five by Sylvia Plath

Old man, you surface seldom. / Then you come in with the tide's coming / When seas wash cold, foam- / Capped: white hair, white beard, far-flung, / A dragnet, rising, falling, as waves / Crest and trough. Miles long [...]

Partita, 1968 by Hannah Lowe

Partita, 1968When the tabla and double bass are really moving the raga in full swing I think of when I used to run for hours, for...

The Lighthouse by Michael Shann

The Lighthouse Markhouse RoadSo far from the wine-dark sea, a displaced monument to faith and absurdityat the turn of a neat, Victorian street. Still, the treacherous rocks...

This Dark Art by Neil Burns

This Dark ArtIf you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow, and which will not. Speak. - Macbeth, Act 1...

Difficult Cup by Isabel Galleymore

after Wu Hao’s Duke CupsThe china cup is frilled at the rim like tired lace and all over it ceramic tentacles extend to whisper if you drink...

Lifesaving by Wes Lee

LifesavingThey don’t do it anymore, breathe into the mouth to save.We had learnt it reluctantly, lined up beside a recumbent dummy,waiting to take our turn to...

What Follows by Theophilus Kwek

What FollowsDeer cull, Wytham 7th February 2015A moment’s pause before a fist of swallows spooks the sky above the nearest trees. Something shakes the fence-bound rows, bursts through...

Refugees by Manash Bhattacharjee

RefugeesI know a thing or two about refugees –As a child I heard father say, “We were sleeping in the place we thought was our country, till the siren rang...
Replete by Maggie Butt

Replete by Maggie Butt

RepleteEnough of beauty - I have devoured small boats curtseying at anchor, green palace-dotted hills swarming the spice-scented shore of Asia Minor.I couldn’t chew another mouthful of waves,...

Exile by Manash Bhattacharjee

Exile“I rested my mouth on your memory” ~ Yannis Ritsos, from Diaries of ExileNight arrives like a cart You push it with motionless hands There is darkness But...

Evening Light

Evening LightBrave bat in a bowler hat Blood shot eyes question What time does this light Depart?The light descends elsewhere Its shadow rising here The bat changes into an...

Giggles by Evdokia Charalampous

With her eyes closed she has been staring at the lamps on the ceiling for days.By now they must look like Sufi dervishes whirling in white to...

Five Bullets for Sabeen Mahmud by Manash Bhattacharjee

“Is it tomorrow, or just the end of time?”~ Jimi Hendrix, Purple HazeSabeen had a list of crimes to her name – She ran a...

The Cult of Isaac by M. G. Stephens

THE CULT OF ISAACWe all know about Abraham, the great religions emanating from his skull, but what about Isaac, where is his world taken into theological thought,mulled...

For Calcutta by Manash Bhattacharjee

As I leave for Calcutta I think the city Always that other city Its river Ganga Always my other river Howrah Bridge What a colonial cradle A Raj suspended Kipling's imperial joy Hoogly...

At the Nursing Home by Leland James

—inside an old man vacant by the windowHold me occasionally for the light is fading and I can no longer see the hills that once rose...

Green by Chris Woods

   My Kodak Brownie didn’t work but I have a picture of the green dress. The film was black and white, my memory is colour.We’d eaten our lunch...

Different Faces by Manash Bhattacharjee

"I wonder sometimes where people store all their different faces." ~ Trina Nileena BanerjeeThe face he wears every morning Reminds him of his mother Combing his hair...

Two Hundred Twenty a Kilo by Nabarun Bhattacharya, translated by Manash...

(Homage to Karl Marx)Nabarun Bhattacharya (23 June 1948 – 31 July 2014)On the floor of a slaughterhouse A butcher’s leg slips in the blood Crows go raucous...

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