By Alan Dunnett You gave five, which seemed a lot. I gave three against my better judgment. I gave three exceptionally and regretfully.    Just one can be more than enough. You act like these stupid end-of-email kisses are real. No, they mean less than nothing.   At last, our poor communication is at an end. Relief is palpable. We go down to the dirty old river   and step to the bridge and its Roman pillars slowly with stones in our pockets. Then we actually kiss but not five

By Alex Padina Under the pressing wind I wondered about polysemic words, and how they guide the train of thought. Seemingly unrelated vocables sharing the same whispered air, the same shape in their invisible sound waves, despite their different roots.   I saw a gigantic mass of clouds: A shadowy, sinister flock of billows, slowly taking over the blue sky. And despite the threat of heavy rains, I felt light.   My mind suddenly shifted to a future memory— one of doctors and pa

By Margaret Bethray They are lifting away the winter, layer by layer, to reach a face that sleeps in ether. Your pupils dilate, better to absorb the radiant nurses who revolve and press enamelled tablets to your lips. You feed indulgently, grub-like, marvelling while the world’s sugary lights unravel their thrill and shimmer their silks.   Turning over in drugged sleep, you hear thin wings rustle a rumour: once you filled the shape of a man . But the cell walls split and you