Poems

Rita Ann Higgins

The fates are on a bank holiday weekend / showing off around the long wards. / The spinner spins herself / into a menacing match with a melanoma / ...

Poems

Ryan Dennis

It is the commerce of farmers with hands in their pockets. / It is used by old wives / and the things they’ve known not having. / The stains in his pants are scattered language, / ...

Poems

Trevor Conway

The tiptoe of rain / Tapping as we huddle / Under the black umbrella. / Curves: your cheek, / ...

Poems

Sandra Bunting

This place called Galway / has other names, sea names, secret names. / It beckoned to us many years ago, / then turned us into familiar figures, / ...