I stood at the bus stop, waiting for the number 17 into Birmingham city centre. I had been waiting for over 20 minutes, and the queue at the stop had now built up to well over 20 people. I can drive, but car ownership had lost its appeal. I was tired of having to cart…
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ONE POEM — Diane Fahey
a frieze of lacemakers
intricately at work
beneath the bay’s
array of scintilla –
ONE POEM — Joseph Eastell
half six stampedes into our room
where we stretch across the kingsize,
urban sprawl nibbling at the greenbelt.
Right There — Lily Blacksell
‘Your place or mine?’ he typed, adding then deleting a winky face and pressing send.
‘Neither,’ she replied very quickly, adding ‘obviously.’
ONE POEM — Jonah Corren
The goats have come down
from the hills today.
POETRY & ART – Katie Hourigan
Blood orange, the pith and peel of it,
sluicing into nails and the cuts
I hadn’t known were there.
COMFORT FOODS // TWO POEMS – Daniele Nunziata
I’ve tried planting potatoes since you left,
but they never grow the way they did for you.
ONE POEM – Anna Seidel
We are looking for names,
that a laughing god
could call us by.
ONE POEM – Iona May
When did writing
become such a warm meeting place?
COMFORT FOODS // Koláčky —Carolyn Janecek
I was born in the eye of a koláček––
my jelly center plucked from the trees
in my grandparents’ backyard
ONE POEM – Alexandra Corrin-Tachibana
Hamamatsu: home of unagi pie –– a biscuit made of eel.
Iwakuni: bridge of Samurai –– beer with strangers under blossom.
ONE POEM – Sarah Degner Riveros
Mama hugs
her son. Can we get
horchata? No. Not today.
It’s Tuesday. Treinta tacos?
De asada? Para llevar.
The wait’s worth it.
Porridge 