‘Laminations I’ by Mark Fiddes

Laminations I Amid the crashing, you missed next door’s soul shooting free of rubble deflected off the skip with a clunking blue flash towards Croydon. Perhaps it meant to go elsewhere. They stack salvaged bricks in wobbly columns out back like a garden in Pompei. A pyre gyres plastic black cremating many decades of botchery by innocents with hammers and laminates, as cheap as chipboard. … Continue reading ‘Laminations I’ by Mark Fiddes

‘The Dark Smoothness of an Old Revolver’ by Catherine Edmunds

The Dark Smoothness of an Old Revolver Oh, those Audrey Hepburn sunglasses! A man should get drunk now and then out of principle, like those of us here, defeated by life, scorned by the Trouville set. I’m sorry, I seem to have momentarily mislaid my muse, and am therefore inclined towards a certain delicious depravity. It is a little dear here, but the climate is … Continue reading ‘The Dark Smoothness of an Old Revolver’ by Catherine Edmunds

‘The Nudist Beach’ by Dorothy Lehane

The Nudist Beach What we musn’t ignore, says Dad, are the difficulties and responsibilities of the Penis. We mustn’t ignore that. Mum looks up from the Catholic Times, tuts, goes back. I look out toward France; the hazy line of sailing boats, stocky, athletic calves dividing the horizon. The old men want me to see them, hiding behind rocks, grabbing themselves whilst no-one else is … Continue reading ‘The Nudist Beach’ by Dorothy Lehane

‘Honeymoon’ by Josephine Corcoran

Honeymoon I wouldn’t call it a honeymoon, those muffled nights in mothballed rooms. With cake in the boot we pilgrimmed north, taking a young marriage to old widows, my father’s brothers dead, their crucifixes still hanging. In each house we were given the double bed, my aunties inviting us to fornicate on concave mattresses containing dead men’s seed. Had we come one week before, you … Continue reading ‘Honeymoon’ by Josephine Corcoran