We found

the strangely folded woman in the woods. She was under a polished white rock. We took her home and opened her out very carefully, dried her by the fire. She had eyes like a surprised crow. She told us tales with a language that sounded like black wings circling winter trees. When she fell asleep, we pressed her flat again and took her back to the forest, pinning her down beneath the same stone. It was then we noticed the elaborately carved sign. It said ‘Do not -’. The final words had been scratched out.

When we got back home we found her stories sitting in our chairs, warming their huge boots by the fire.

Andrew Turner has been published online and in print. He lives in Staffordshire.

Thank you for sending us

your work which we read
with interest particularly liking
‘There’s a marketing opportunity
in your desolation’
however we didn’t feel anything
was quite right for this issue
you may want to consider
taking out a subscription
at a special reduced price?

Andrew Turner has been writing since 2015. He has appeared in a number of print and online magazines.

If you could reach that far you would slap it. What’s dull for the moon is life and death for you. At least it still shares its light, although I suspect it’s trying to persuade those clouds to hide it, just out of spite. Finish quickly while you can still see. Dig faster.

Andrew Turner has been published in a number of online and print magazines. He lives in Staffordshire. Also at andrewturnerpoetry.wordpress.com

Candyfloss looked like heaven
to the sand spiders;
they had been brought up
under the shadow of the pier,
weaned on stories of a pink
paradise where you didn’t even
have to spin your own thread.

Andrew Turner started writing poetry in 2015. To date he has been published in Ink Sweat and Tears,unevenfloor poetry, Obsessed with Pipework and Prole. He is also shortly due to appear in Under The Radar. He lives in Staffordshire and works with young people with learning disabilities.

It was never spoken about

but I knew my aunt was a witch
her familiar an overweight
sausage dog named Bowley
who needed three times more
magic that is usual
to fly with her on moonlit
errands over cabbage fields
where I would have taken root
if not for the secret words she
passed to me along with
the train fare to Nottingham
handed secretly beneath
the green topped kitchen table

Andrew Turner started writing poetry in 2015. To date he has been published in ink Sweat and Tears, unevenfloor poetry, Obsessed with Pipework and Prole. He is also shortly due to appear in Under The Radar. He lives in Staffordshire and works with young people with learning disabilities.