Rosie Hadden The tall man brought with him a stone house,a red horse, two black dogs. He did not know she’d been painting him in gouache and gold leaflong before he met her. She’d conjured him when her hearth was empty and the moon dark.Placed him on a sea in a small wooden boat. At … Continue reading Love song for the tall man

            Anne Berkeley She is at her easel, dibbling a brush in the turps.The easel is between us, like a mirror I can’t see through.Sit still, she says, and begins anotherfurious dab dab dab of colour. I am being squeezed from tubes of burnt sienna, lead whiteand she is cross with me for not coming clear.I’m … Continue reading The sitting

            Nadine El-Enany after Paula RegoI was by the window.When I tell the storyI am always the one by the window.I’m never the girl on the bed. I’m never kneeling.I’m never holdingmy nose or my breath.I’m never between his legs. The sun is shining,the birds are singing,the water warms in its jugand I am by the … Continue reading The Family

            Alex Mepham Alex Mepham is a writer and translator based in York, UK. Alex has received a Northern Writers Award, and has poems and translations appearing in Magma, The Stinging Fly, and Modern Poetry in Translation, among others. Website: amepham.carrd.co.

            Alex Mepham Alex Mepham is a writer and translator based in York, UK. Alex has received a Northern Writers Award, and has poems and translations appearing in Magma, The Stinging Fly, and Modern Poetry in Translation, among others. Website: amepham.carrd.co.

            Natalie Shaw No one liked the new rules but we thought they were good rules.With just the two of us left,we cartwheeled in, as was the rule.We had to say to everyonego awaygo away -we planned to swim nakedand keep the wave machine on all the time.If there had been music, it wouldhave sounded like this Natalie Shaw has … Continue reading We were in charge at the swimming pool

            Robin Park 1. I was christened Robin in Englishclass by my teacher Jeremy. I must have been (or become)bird-shaped that day: moulting down the edges of my before-name. I folded away my previous self until it fitonly in my mother’s mouth. 2. Jeremy must have created mebecause everyone says I do not look like anythingelse. … Continue reading Looking for Jeremy

            Meggie Royer When my great-grandmother survivedthe potato famine,she survived the exodusthat came with it.Blight upon blight.First came the dreams:clustered, gone. Spoiled.Eyes sprouting like tubersin the dusk. Dirt so black it shone.A fear of becoming marriedwhen you were already married.The dread of learning that living another yearrequired living another year.More is what passed down through the … Continue reading Eviction

            Alice Frecknall The scene starts in a bathroom:red between thighsshe’s laughing,It’ll look like a massacreby the time I’m done!Our bodies’ little rituals of emptying.This isn’t quite how I pictured it‘love’me trying toadjust to my own hot blood too busy to noticethe ache of it taking hold, my fingerprints’ quick-drying stains.Showering,the salty film of her/mefalls offmy … Continue reading Everything is wipe-clean-friendly

            Luís Costa there is not muchI can tell, truly.I am swimming with my clothes onand it may appear that I’m breathingbut I’m not.I’ve just gotten used to the usualnessof it all. the misplaced sadness,a karaoke booth (the lights are blue),my coffee table becoming a graveyardfor fish-shaped soy saucecontainers. there is, of course, the glaciergrowing in … Continue reading elegy