Two poems by Kathy Pimlott

    As You Are 90, I Must Be 65 There’s something wrong with the guttering: it could be nests. When it rains cataracts drown the geraniums. This is one problem. Another is the rockery, overrun by Creeping Jenny and saplings which would become a forest left to their own devices. Someone stole the lilies-of-the-valley, and the heathers, which promised so well, have disappeared. The … Continue reading Two poems by Kathy Pimlott

Two poems by Robert Peake

    Letter to the Last Megafauna My friends, you wouldn’t like it here, moss squelching underfoot, lean drizzle tickling your rivulets, bare trees. We’d give you names like Babar, Dumbo, Topsy, then shackle your legs for safety (ours), parade you in a car for entertainment (ours). Everywhere we go (archaeology shows) the giants disappear – save you, the last of the mammoths, eyelid creased … Continue reading Two poems by Robert Peake