Who hung the fish on the trees, asks my mother as we both look through the kitchen window and I …
Last Card. A poem by Cathal Quinn
Cards were in our blood. Dabbling with clock patience, rummy, canasta, But always back to all jacks – Don’t forget …
Lockdown Exile. A prose poem by Louisa McKee
This year we are in exile, banned from the yearly drive to go west, yet I only need close my …
I Have No Face, But Yours. A poem by Amantine Brodeur
The hours decline. The bloodline of any language I may have dilutes into fear. I wake to longing and I …
A haiku and a tanka by Jean Roarty
Haiku We didn’t see it coming robin sits on his favourite tree, unaware it’s soon to be felled Tanka Covid …