The Church - AM Spence

A frosty afternoon,

in floating fog,

off a main road covered

by ice, both sides of

grass thick with frost,

I am looking at stain glass.

A bare tree has

ice-roots and ice

-twigs, and at the end

of an ice

-path a stone cross reappears,

then disappears.

AM Spence was born in Manchester, England. She read literature as an undergraduate at The University of Manchester, where in 2009 she completed her MA in creative writing. Her first collection, Reflect, was published last year.

Three Poems - Scott Laudati

my first night back we were far apart once but you can hear my heart now in this chest, and your hair used to itch my skin if you didn’t tuck it back but you’ll never hear about it again

Three Poems - JD DeHart

Halfway Downs Hard earth against them, they stubbornly scramble, leaving behind the struggle, faces streaked with poverty, setting jaws like flint against the scratch

A Cartograher's Pandering to Scale - Colin James

Note the well worn hand holds close to the side’s pockets of

White Liquor

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