This was my fourth year attending the Bristol Poetry Institute’s Annual Reading. Normally, we would be gathered in the great hall of the Wills Memorial Building and, upon arriving barely on time, I would be sat in a row towards the back of the hall, rummaging around my rucksack for my glasses. This year, I was sat at my desk staring at a Crowdcast on my laptop with Claudia Rankine on my screen.
Read More
Enara gazed out of the living room window. Already the walls of her house had started to close in on her. Usually the sight of an empty street greeted her from the window. The languid longevity of lockdown had locked away her freedom. Her planned holiday with her friends. Cancelled. The many barbecues she would have attended. Cancelled. Her birthday party. Cancelled.
Read More
