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Three Poems
by Tristan Moss


Amongst bits of pot
A solid cylinder of roots.
Outside the prison


Between the blades
of an old mower
tangled grass grows


When we were burgled, we hid
and argued about whose cds, books and furniture
were being stolen.
We heard them going through every room -
yet not ours.
They knew we were there,
as we knew they were there -
a kind of awkward deal had been struck.
Eventually, we dared to leave our room
and saw that those two thieves
had left us with nothing.

About the author:
Tristan Moss lives in Sheffield, where he works as an English language teacher. His writing has appeared in Mytholog and Smokelong. He can be contacted at

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Midnight Picnic
a novel by
Nick Antosca


The Suburban Swindle

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