Day 17

Recycling

Written by: Chris York

Recycling The blue bag is where we put the paper, scrunched up drafts, drawings of cats. Bad poems. We shred our details, deny any I.D. caper. We have the council rules written down verbatim. The big white bag to fill with plastic bottles of a certain size. To go against the ruling is grim. […]

Workman’s train

Written by: Robbie Burton

Failed on the prompt front but did write this today… Workman’s train There was the boiler-suited man laying out strands of tobacco. There was the girl watching a boy sprint down the platform yet again. There was the woman with bright turquoise eyes before we knew about coloured lenses. There was the boiler-suited man’s tongue […]

phantom runner

Written by: Jonathan Mayman

phantom runner as I walk down to the village today behind me hear a sharp pitter-patter turn round ready to get out of the way as I half-expected no-one is there when I sleep he causes my brain to fuse high-stepping through a recurrent nightmare ever since I hung up my running shoes

Foreigners

Written by: Martin

The Russian trundles a wooden barrow through East End streets. I sit astride a hundred watches as down the narrow alley ways to Petticoat Lane, we ride the jarring cobbles. I remember my zada’s look of quiet pride. He lives with booba Sarah’s temper, their house a brick link on a bend opposite the church […]