Monthly Archives: December 2016
Laura McKee
for John i.m. John Mackie I’d had fantasy relatives before of course Lily Langtry my distant LeBreton granny Cary Grant my uncle Archie Leach then you came along you called me cousin then cuz because of the Mackie McKee thing … Continue reading
John D Robinson
SAVING YOUR ASS Trembling and paralyzed with fear, the poor little thing hid behind a dog’s water-bowl; my 3 cats and in particular the big black bastard with mean green eyes was towering above, poised and prepared to strike and … Continue reading
Louisa Campbell
Shhh… …you won’t see him, solitary, sidling up at the bus stop, faceless in the shadows, stealing snippets. You won’t notice him scribbling silently beneath a black umbrella in the slanting rain. Later – maybe years later … Continue reading
Holly Day
In Closing I imagine them finding her on the beach blond hair spread out on the sand, skin pale and taut the water pooling in a foamy halo around her head eyes fixed unblinking on the early morning sun. I … Continue reading
Beth McDonough
Unravelling Kintyre Goats Opportunists came, lured by lucre in their hair. They tried to steal their feral jumps from scree by Largybaan’s lost homes from heather plugged Davaar, from their munch pungent at the Gauldrons’ ransomed slopes. Thank God, men’s … Continue reading
Linda Atterton
Cocoon You had been away too long You ordered cake and coffee I remember telling you I like my cake without the cream As we ate from the same plate As we let the world go by Too locked into … Continue reading
Frank Gillougley
PÉCEL A goods train rolls past with old testament thunder. In the breeze, the golden awning shades the seat beneath; a hunched up blue bolster balances the composition. I wonder who once set up court here and heard the same … Continue reading
Paul Brookes
A Wonder In spring morning haze, out of a red brick council house, a bothered standing hawk steals the wide eyed wonder of a radged bairn who reaches upwards with pudgy hands to grasp her silver underside and blue head. … Continue reading
Simon Cockle
Bag for Life Now, I ask of you: what kind of life is measured in bags? Forced into a boot without ceremony, between jump leads and a spare tyre jack? Or ten years of trips to the out-of-town store until … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 