Three poems by Jodie Hollander

  The Metronome She set the metronome ticking, her children the pendulum, rocking back and forth from Mother to Father, Father back to Mother. Then she’d twist the knob to Father-Mother, Mother-Father, or call out Allegro!, and they’d speed up: FatherMother, MotherFather, FatherMother. Her children walked sideways, their eyes shifted horizontally, they looked dizzy, even possessed—missing the cars zooming in front of them, but somehow … Continue reading Three poems by Jodie Hollander

Two poems by Jennifer Lee Tsai

  Breathing after Song Dong Tiananmen Square, New Year’s Eve, sub-zero temperatures; he lies face-down, breathing gently for forty minutes while from a distance, Mao observes a few policemen on night watch and the lamp-posts fitted with video cameras. This is the gate of Heavenly Peace. Soon, a patch of frost thaws, just to freeze over again when he rises. In the morning, by the … Continue reading Two poems by Jennifer Lee Tsai

‘Praise Be to Unexpected Ways’ by Chaucer Cameron

Praise Be to Unexpected Ways after Sepideh Jodeyri I have breasts, which I love, I can speak the word breast, I can write the word breast, I can associate the breast with a robin on a branch. I love birds, I love the way they sing, and how they capture territory in unexpected ways. Praise the breast. I have lips, which I love, I can … Continue reading ‘Praise Be to Unexpected Ways’ by Chaucer Cameron

‘High Society’ by Ian Humphreys

  Inside the camphorwood chest – forgotten treasure: a pair of leather cowboy boots with metal toe caps. How they shone. As loud, proud and polished as the men                         they sparked a trail through. Three decades of dust can’t hide the cracks. A genie-rub conjures up swirls of dry ice, the wink of the glitter ball, and the Night Fever dance floor, a chequerboard                            where … Continue reading ‘High Society’ by Ian Humphreys

Two poems by Jacqueline Saphra

All My Mad Mothers My mother gathered every yellow object she could find: daffodils and gorgeous shawls, little pots of bile and piles of lemons. Once we caught her with a pair of fishnet stockings on a stick, trying to catch the sun. My mother never travelled anywhere without her flippers, goggles and a snorkel. She’d strip at any opportunity: The Thames, The Serpentine, the … Continue reading Two poems by Jacqueline Saphra