by phoenix | Jun 1, 2016 | Uncategorized
A poem about me in which nothing is true She’s humble; speaks little. Mousy they call her, when they notice her. She’s happiest on her own. Never thinks twice, quite content. Quick to praise and no regrets. She tends her garden, diligent, and Basks in...
by phoenix | Jun 1, 2016 | Poetry
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...
by phoenix | May 18, 2016 | Poetry
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...
by phoenix | May 4, 2016 | Story
Step off. Or not. It’s one of those decisions that hovers at your peripheral vision — are you ready? Wings unfurled at your back, that sensation of almost-moistness lingering — will they hold? There’s a time limit… go too early and you plummet to the bottom...
by phoenix | Nov 15, 2015 | Poetry, Political
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...
