By Nicola Healey

Because I could not find a place, 

I stopped fighting

and let the world swallow me whole.

By Alessio Zanelli

Shrouds of dust across the epochs. 

Leagues and lustrums, 

milestones left along forgotten roads. 

By JC Williams

The potato peddler’s cry rings out 

as streets yawn into another day. 

Aloo, Aloo.  

By Jos Sinnott

Why did I pick up my phone and look at it? 

I've forgotten

By Katie Boord

“I’ll go back someday.”

But isn’t that what they all say?

By Lauren Michelle Levesque

so many conversations

our dark humour.

By Rena J. Mosteirin

If whales, harpoons and swordfish 

make you crazy to go to sea, 

then go on, Ishmael, go to the fire 

to rid yourself of this smoke. 

By Susanna Lang

On the Nîmes road, we pass a tower on a hilltop, houses shoulder to shoulder, their tile roofs. We tell each other that we should go there sometime.

By Todd Campbell

I stand at the island in your kitchen, 

chop chestnuts and celery.