Loose Inhabitation by Kat Sinclair

Not having written in a while the hand pants “it hurts to make you heard” so in Winter I reduce their hours; let them sleep in; moisturise and refrain from biting at the skin around my nailbeds. I wear gloves. Spirit level barred there is no way of making sure the...

Down By by Kat Sinclair

Shapeless red sack dress and river into which my colours ran last time I ever saw my grandfather take a cigarette and miss those collectible cards my whole family cried save me and Dad who rolled eyes and I who had just learned criteria for a proper Gothic...