‘Ogre’s Burrito’ by Jane Burn

Ogre’s Burrito Parcelled in linen, a crack of smudged eye opens. Under-sheet in a claustrophobe, arms pinned, I am an ogre’s burrito. A salt-sweat salsa of the nights inappropriate dreaming stains me, soaks the bedding. Sour. I can smell myself – I feel basted, the musk of arousal as I split my welded legs apart. For a while, through the sleep hours, I was unafraid. … Continue reading ‘Ogre’s Burrito’ by Jane Burn

‘What my grandfather sees at 90’ by Catherine Ayres

What my grandfather sees at 90 Dawn in the boiler’s long sigh A misdirected piss in warm toes A broken cup in the taste of salt A daughter’s face in softness under his palms The afternoon sliced by a clock Donna’s smile in the smell of Silk Cut Forgotten shoes in a slap from the floor Nightfall in the birds’ silence Florence at the front … Continue reading ‘What my grandfather sees at 90’ by Catherine Ayres