sharps (pot au feu)

i am sitting in a darkened cinema rolling a spiky metal ringup and down my fingerspressing in sharpto stop myself scratchingsigils into skin again it’s history          soup that has been simmeringthrough generations...

Drifting

It's the weekend again and the rain lashes the windows.I'd had some thought of weeding the garden, but the windHas other ideas. These artificial distinctions we makeBetween workday and rest — we’ve been home for 63 daysAnd one blends into another. I could have...

The 6th Great Extinction

There are no platypus under the bridge again today. It’s the fourth week in a row and we all ask each other Instead of ‘hello’, “Seen any platypus?” — hopeful And each time, it’s “Not today… not for a while…” None of us know whether it’s...

POETRY

If voting fails, break glass

If voting fails, break glass

It goes without saying that spells of this kind generally require a kitten; At least one, more if there’s a storm brewing — the weather Is a fickle assistant. As to breed, well — the more docile specimens Tend to disrupt proceedings less. Location is your...

A box of old photos

A box of old photos

In storage, one cardboard box filled with photographs. I know one grey envelope contains: Peppy, full name Peppermint, Aged 2 or so, inspecting one minuscule ball of black kitten fluff, Two weeks old, soon to be Nemesis, by name if not by nature. In storage, seventeen...

Peggy

She’s practiced at it. You can tell: expensive dress, eyeshadow just so. The way she dips her eyes and glances over your shoulder, as if There’s something she’s idly wondering but of course, it’s a ruse. She’s scanning escape routes and planning getaways she...

Every heart a doorway

Thresholds have never been what you’d call safe And over the years, the rituals have gotten silly (after all, the phrase ‘swept off her feet’ only make sense Where a certain kind of force is called a ‘bridal carry’). And love (well, trust) creaks open old...

And you are listening

It is 10.40pm in Paris and they have taken hostages at the Bataclan It is 11pm and somewhere on Facebook a kid posts: "they are killing everybody. one by one." It is 4pm in Melbourne and my friend is giving birth to a little boy named Clancy but I don't know that yet....

Stories

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Politics

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