The Stone

The white girl looks over at our table. She is waiting for chowder soup while her mother waits for fish and chips....

In Kenya, we knew Italian nunswho snapped chicken necksand swung pig sausage from thekitchen rafters.They smelled of soup and incenseand dug their...

I saw Beckett the other dayin the doorway of that caféwhere you took his photograph. You know the onewhen he looked up at...

Órla Foyle was born to Irish parents in Nigeria, Africa and has also lived in Kenya, Malawi and Australia. She now lives...

The thing is, the reality of being a teen activist is very different to how I pictured it when I was eleven. It mostly...

There are things you find out: not all homeless people sleep on the street. Some sleep in B&Bs, some in hostels, some in hotels....

Celeste Augé is the author of Skip Diving (Salmon Poetry, 2014), The Essential Guide to Flight (Salmon Poetry, 2009) and the collection of short...

I. Cold February, Galway Novena comes around again. Students burst home past the Cathedral’s line. The rain starts to come down hard and under white flap, a trailer...

First we all hear the shuffling noise. Look! a tourist outside Spar exclaims—her phone, a pitchfork claim, a scamall despair, our local newsprint’s state stories so close,...

We become adult on roads, on lines, on grids, on greens, on grey spaces — you cannot zoom in. We become older with the city as seer, decibels the scale from stepping...