I don’t know how many years I have left but I’ll give them all to you if science ever catches up to the transference of jouissance-time...

Now You Can Lift Any Item* Since I’ve mastered chopsticks--lifting noodles to my mouth--I can wake up happy. I teleport and/or time...

Mum Poem I dig my hands deep into the soil soft and cold, and crumbling. There are anemones to plant, and lavender, and the moss you...

Digital Son Blow off the dust, plug it in, turn it on, he thought waking that morning. How long has it been? Images of the last time...

It was a misty, rainy night when it appeared. I sat in my car, feet up in the passenger seat, sipping a coffee as I admired the view. A...

at the bar on Friday Harbor. Water, like a cabin nearby. I say, "Sitting." But—there isn’t room. We stand avoid eye-contact, as musicians...

No one around, pre-dawn, below zero. It's January. Air thick and still. Fire face down in the coals. Dog barks frozen in their jaws....

Elizabeth M Castillo is a British-Mauritian poet, writer and language teacher. She lives in Paris with her family and two cats.

Connate Our seaside, soft brine lapping, rushing our curves, our keels and bows. Sun froths those tides, warms our foam; tides pour dark...

Nikki is managing editor of streetcake magazine and also runs the streetcake writing prize and MumWrite. She has a chapbook and...