The paper is currently looking for submissions to this monthly feature: email email@example.com with your poems.
Give me elbow room with no one to elbow,
flushed of brickwork, where the hedgerows
come down like a knife, and life is defined
by shade and by rainfall.
Where a lungful means sweetness
and each song has a space to be heard;
where the earth is the colour of
and gives no fickle reply to spade or foot.
Let me kneel down in this street
to greet the dewdrops, stand and salute
your glorious zeroes; tally up
the storefront and profit margins,
red lights and penthouses,
then throw them on the compost heap.