Poem

We sit at the red garden galvanised table with punched out holes to let the rain fall through the kitchen smells of roast chicken. – the chicken I salvaged from the cat’s jaws. I slouch at the table – I’m the wolf …

Fox By Fionnuala Ní Gheannáin Wintered Fox Soft fur tufted Conversation interrupted Harsh winters slumber pale echo of transitory memory Juicy carcass Lush fruit of frosted morn cracks and bursts In Narrow maw and then…

A Statue of Tom Hayden By Jennifer Cook  I was ready to leave it all behind, until you distastefully pushed away your culture war half-pint, topped off with that soggy, hanging green tie, finally looked at me dead in the eye, and…