Sharmistha Mohanty

‘And the evening wind from over the sea makes that threadbare self billow like a tattered sail, all that resisted it now become the air on which it rises.’

Silvina Ocampo

‘Oh, nothing, nothing is mine. / I am like the reflections of a gloomy lake / or the echo of voices at the bottom of a blue / well when it has rained.’

Ángel González Muñiz

‘The cockroaches in my house complain because I read at night’.

Hoa Nguyen

‘I wrote ‘valley’ when I meant ‘longing’ / Your laugh a river A trout kind of green.’

Issue 128

Andrew Motion

‘What am I doing here more than looking – / which I would stop / only to help things through their vanishing’

Dorothea Lasky

‘Hi there, dear sister, I’m sad / But here to tell you / That you never did amount to anything’

Issue 127

Ruth Ozeki

‘old poems, like polished stones, / tumbled words to break my teeth on.’

Rodney Koeneke

‘Lover, does it matter / how the river spends its glitter’

Issue 126

Laura Kasischke

‘But here we are again, you and I, the / two of us, tangled / up and biological.’

Laura Kasischke

‘The moth locked up all / winter in the strongbox.’

Issue 125

Ange Mlinko

‘I think of this when raising my eyes / to a filigreed cross in a sanctuary‘’

Ange Mlinko

‘I rediscovered the efficacy of meter (or the ‘contrast between fixity and flux’) when I was stuck in a shark tunnel with my kids and was afraid I was coming down with a panic attack.’

Helen Mort

‘Stall here and let the world / go past, the way / the world well might / on heather-coloured days like this,’

Issue 119

Jamie McKendrick