you said it’s tradition in Spain that as the clock
strikes twelve we must scoff a grape a chime
one at a time, but quickly as any left over become
unsalvageable, each one a rotten, failing month.
Category: Creative Writing
ONE POEM – Angeliki Ampelogianni
our language, a softness taken root
a teaspoon of rain over us
as we greet this new life
ONE POEM – Rose Foran
I saw them. In the mind’s eye.
A vision once obscured, then clarified.
ONE POEM – Jhilam Chattaraj
Cubed potatoes, sliced onions—their oil bath
followed by a tender sauna.
ONE POEM – Imogen Osborne
We return to find
the magnolia still
bruising itself into blossom.
SHORT STORY – Annie Dobson
Compulsory heterosexuality rots the brain, has rotted my brain. I just wanted to undo, unlive it.
ONE POEM – Bradley David
Then to discover we both go
first for that old chipped blue soup bowl
Is that love?
The Piano Man – Frances Green
That night that the piano man and I first slept together was the night we discovered the pleasure of talking aloud about murder.
ONE POEM – Denisa Vítová
I spilled pinot noir on the bed sheet
and said I was a virgin.
ONE POEM – Lucy Holme
Unlike a jellyfish, she has a brain but doubts her instinct for survival.
swoop siren, dive under.
ART: ALL IS ONE – Camila Curiel
We are bound to nature, worms and dirt, we come from earth, and to earth we will return.
ONE POEM – David Linklater
The train leans through
the Highland line, Inverness
to Fearn, wheat either side.
This carriage bows for you.
