Two Poems by Sophie Herxheimer

  Mother in Heaven What’s the difference Between a ghost and a bride? Both like to spook you darling! I’m in crisp broderie anglaise So pretty and demure, and look! I’m marrying for the very first time, My first boyfriend, handsome Desmond Cliff, who loves me In that great unguarded Boyfriend way. He’s cricket captain! We don’t care about guests, Heaven is full of them, … Continue reading Two Poems by Sophie Herxheimer

‘Cemetery in Powys’ by Helen Kay

  Overlooked by pensioners’ flats, the plots, fresh-mown, are neat as wards. Granite headboards are inscribed with dates, jobs even addresses. Statues of status; storytellers. They die too young here. The flowers and toys imply all-day parties for departed friends: Daffydd, Ivor, Gwynne. These stones will conga until dawn, or line dance every Friday or rave behind the yew, smashed on acid rain. They will … Continue reading ‘Cemetery in Powys’ by Helen Kay

‘November in Reykjavík’ by Cheryl Moskowitz

  Last night I watched you breathing, listened to the graylags squabble, and caught what could have been gunfire but turned to fireworks in my head; a celebration. And in the dark – it is always so consistently dark – I tried to reconfigure time and wondered whether now, at 4:26 am, we should say the day has already begun or if the spell of … Continue reading ‘November in Reykjavík’ by Cheryl Moskowitz

‘The Fox and the Gravestone’ by Emily Blewitt

  It was like a story I read. A fox became trapped between two gravestones. She struggled and corkscrewed but her muscles swelled up. She was stuck. Couldn’t budge. The air in her lungs became thin. She shook like a frightened rabbit. She was photographed, petted. Children snatched at her coat. She bit them away. She’d not be drawn out. Then it got worse. It … Continue reading ‘The Fox and the Gravestone’ by Emily Blewitt

Two Poems by Ruth Stacey

  Bullet Claude Debussy wants to tell me something. He smiles; I paint his music and his dreams are now visible. Musical notes as paint. Symphonic sketches. The last note is D♭. The people who dwell there enter the scene, they wander idly from group to group. Stifle my thoughts. The air is in the lowest octave. A stately queen, wearing brown, sings about bells … Continue reading Two Poems by Ruth Stacey

‘Please Do Not Touch the Walrus or Sit on the Iceberg’ by Caleb Parkin

  Please Do Not Touch the Walrus or Sit on the Iceberg           Horniman Museum, Summer 2019 So, I clamber up, on top of the fibreglass plinth, rise from the chevrons of the parquet floor as though it melted into thick-cold waves and I emerge, triumphant and substantial, hear my epic belly boom on the fake ice, hands slapping flatly on … Continue reading ‘Please Do Not Touch the Walrus or Sit on the Iceberg’ by Caleb Parkin

‘I Write to You from a Tree Museum’ by Heidi Beck

‘They took all the trees And put ’em in a tree museum’           —Joni Mitchell, Big Yellow Taxi   The exhibit is fully interactive. I sit on a chair (Maple), resting my arms on the sturdy wide plank (Red Oak) which I use as a desk. On my right, a pencil pot (Cherry, downed in a storm) and a coaster (Cork … Continue reading ‘I Write to You from a Tree Museum’ by Heidi Beck