TWO POEMS – Tim Kiely

the cake is made of Walthamstow
a dense and glutinous Walthamstow
we are going to make Walthamstow
a Titanic success for Walthamstow

ONE POEM – William Doreski

Dried for sale, sea stars remind you
that we haven’t seen the Atlantic 
breathing heavily along a beach
for a couple of plague-struck years.

ONE POEM – Nicola Maclean

Zones one to three have become a long-distance relationship.
Underground, Hades and his sardine dead
reach their eleventh hour

ONE POEM – Krysia Wazny McClain

    Akademicheskaya Metro Station Sixty-four meters underground: vaulted ceilings whiter than eggshells, chrome shinier than any American diner. Pride of Lenin, who, mummified, did not see it open but extolled its nominal achievement by plaque five meters tall. On the escalator, my hand in a grey fingerless glove finds yours. A second couple kiss…

ONE POEM – Ottavia Silvestri

bathroom bucolic a pupil, dollop of toothpaste pink blue yellow cotton balls in the static light a gracious not swarming not fermenting pale May Ottavia Silvestri is a political science student that lives in Milan, Italy. In her free time she studies Mandarin and volunteers in a tiny cat shelter (hi Melinda, you’re my favourite…

ONE POEM – Hideko Sueoka

Carnivorous Butterwort A pale-purple tint – a sort of violet of little petals attracting flies, ants in fresh beeches shading the zigzag trail with glossy moss. The floral colour implies saintly piety to God or deities at which an insect could quail in the East. Ecru moths cruise and scurry. Near Acheron just a halt….