Beth McDonough – “Untrumpeted”

Untrumpeted On the day my father sent his left hearing aid to intercept the underworld, its mission was secret and unexplained. Should you ever wish to plot a course to those depths from East Renfr…

Black Nore Review
Peter J Donnelly – “Evening Drive”

Evening Drive We never went out in the car after tea, except occasionally to Presto’s. I asked where we were going of course. To playschool said my mother, it never occurring to me that All Saints …

Black Nore Review
Greg Freeman – “The Camping Coach”

The Camping Coach Our mother always dreamed we would play in the same team. As we scuffled at football in the gravel in matching shirts and shorts we waved to the driver and fireman. Our very own t…

Black Nore Review
Marion McCready – “Apples”

Apples My garden tree weighed down by apple moons. The crisp satellites bloom in space polished reddish-green, chosen fruits, soft as the roof of your mouth (touch it with your tongue). My apples m…

Black Nore Review
Claire Booker – “Dieu et Mon Droit”

Dieu et Mon Droit Two of us at least are gagging for a fag after three hours locked in the jury room on tepid tap water. It all hangs on a word. I’ve slipped the Judge a note asking her to define t…

Black Nore Review
Michael Durack – “Panenka”

Panenka To dare to execute a Panenka, to venture the quick run up, then stop, the keeper falling hook, line and sinker for your dummy, the devious Panenka a mere chip, not the slam of a Stan Wawrin…

Black Nore Review
Tim Fellows – “Björk”

Björk I hope she lives in Iceland in a remote wooden hut, or a crystal cave, disconnected from the madness, imagining fantastic things that will seep into rock, flow down glaciers and out into the …

Black Nore Review
Antonia Kearton – “Playing the piano at my father’s house”

Playing the piano at my father’s house It stands black and silent, a dusty lar familiaris, perfectly inhabiting this space within the room, still as a forest pool. I raise the lid, note chipped key…

Black Nore Review
Julian Dobson – “Sabbath”

Sabbath I’d observe a cherry tree through the arch whisking through seasons while Sunday sermons drifted over me in spent blossom. At the time I’d missed the point of boredom, which was only partly…

Black Nore Review
Angela Topping – “Crumbs”

Crumbs A lifetime of them, wiped daily from worktops: spilled cereal, cut bread, nubs of cheese, haphazard record of what’s been eaten, as telling as stomach contents in an autopsy. They stick to t…

Black Nore Review