Bonfire
by Jessica Traynor November slips into December like cold air down my throat. I catch my crow’s feet in the mirror and swallow the shock of years
Thistle Birth
by Doireann Ní Ghríofa Three weeks after her birth I wrap my tiny daughter in a rainbow blanket and wheel her to the forest. There, I see poems
The Backward Look
by Dónall Dempsey for D.B. The blackbird leaves me a note pinned to the sky that blue beyond blue the tide of the moment turning turning. Time
Selfie
by Kevin Higgins “At 50, everyone has the face he deserves.” George Orwell My hair is the grass on the
Irish Liberal Foresees Own Enduring Relevance
by Kevin Higgins My words are smoother than the essential oils the Taoiseach last week had his parliamentary assistant rub into his badly
Addesso e brutto
by Macdara Woods 2. It is all translation: tears to music certainty to fear speech to silence and energy to age Not even a rocky outcrop to