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 sea­sonal, but we all fear 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 discretion:…

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 never…

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 wood with or…

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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