Articles Available Online

We are langoustines feeling for love on the ocean floor; the hairs on our fingers that we didn’t even know were there are tendrils reaching for something solid in the dark each drawing the other in to an embrace so close our bones begin to fuse and blood flows freely between our veins – until   even as we sync sighs, something catches in our breath Fibres harden, become our own again and your mouth tastes suddenly of salt as if the sea has flooded in between us, forcing out my tongue