Issue 1 index


Editorial
Meet the Editors & Designers


Contents

St.Tobaq
Rhys Shanahan

Rice Paper
Damon Young

Hopkins & Hallam
Note from Naomi Lebens

Before I go I have to say...
Kate Pursglove

Some Other Where
Steven Matthews

Weekend Poems: Breakfast
Eleanor Burleigh

Aged 7
Jean Watkins

Childhood & Plastic People
Zeng Chen

Street Scene
Peter Robinson

A Martian Writes
Michael Hutchinson

The Tarot Reading of The Fool
Anonymous

Stop Making Sense & Bla bla bla
Jenna Fox

Fringe Festival
Claire Dyer

When you have hope of life returning, this
Kate Noakes

Broadwood 7362
Gill Learner

A Drop in the Ocean
Lindsey Jones

Pitch of Ghosts
Vic Pickup

23rd February 2021
Kitty Hawkins

The Sofa
Tara Bermingham

Trophies on a Windowsill? & Still (monetizing) Life
Laura Rozamunda

Good to know perhaps, but nothing to be done
Kate Noakes

Heading Out
Michael Anania

The Threshold
David Brauner

Birds
Hannah Lily

Park Recollection
Liam Anslow-Sucevic

Balloons
Rhianna Bryon

Ephemerality of the World
Salma Haque

The August Elvis Died
Gill Learner


Reprieve
Michael Anania


Hit Me Gently
Daisy Dickens


Good to know perhaps, but nothing to be done


It's not novel sitting bare-cheste
against a metal plate waiting for x-rays
to be zapped through me.

I've been here before, and often:
the disappearing staff,
the familiar buzz.

But this time the Republic of South Africa
is taking an interest:
for my work visa, I can't have TB.

I don't, of course,
and won't be going with some of
my parents' classmates

to the sanitorium halfway up
Gelligaer mountain.
But there is a niggle

that some opacities might exist:
small patches of light
on the radiograph,

or worse, coalescences,
or dark cavities
shadowing death.

No problem, the radiologist tells me
and I'm in and out
in no time.

One thing, she says,
as I'm at the door,
have you had chicken pox as an adult?

Yes, a gift from my daughter.
You must have been quite ill.
Why do you ask?

Oh, she says, you have a number,
actually a great number,
of scars on your lungs.


Biography: Kate Noakes is a PhD student at the University of Reading researching contemporary British and American poetry. Her most recent collection is The FIlthy Quiet (Parthian, 2019). Her first non-fiction title, Real Hay-on-Wye, is forthcoming from Seren in 2022 and her next poetry collection is Goldhawk Road from Two Rivers Press in 2023. She lives in London.


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