Impossible Things by Rosamund McCullain

In the second poem chosen by our guest editor Jessie Joe Jacobs, poet Rosamund McCullain plays on the meaning of 'scab'. Worthy words as our university staff continue to strike for their pensions. Impossible Things Picking that irritating scab and wondering Can there be new skin underneath? Can Epidermis and epiglottis renew? Repair the Raw … Continue reading Impossible Things by Rosamund McCullain