‘The Haircut’ by Kevin Higgins

The Haircut   I had it imported from Ancient Egypt, installed upon my skull by JobBridge slaves grateful to be allowed touch a scalp as potentially valuable as mine.   I can smell opportunity at a thousand yards, and in the blink of a synthetic eyelash, I’m off sniffing its however questionable arse. I’m Hillary…

‘Sea Scarf’ and other poems by Victoria Mosley

Shiny shine   Milk on the turn midnight history muffles owl’s cry: narcissus pulsing through dull earth to release birthday colour.   I’ve become muted: afraid of the shine shine glitter hidden here as time brushes messages on parched skin.   Pacing corridor always waiting for sun – skim star-burn impatient of humdrum yearning magnificence.…