Content warning: death or dying there is a beach not far away where crabs idly pick at the shoreline infant faces etched into their backs scuttling sideways with the tide eyes stare as if drowning through weeds small busy ghosts disinterested in our yearning as we...
Dawn splits crêpe sky, moist mist of air. There is despair here, and also life. We tumble out of the back of a cube van. Bodies, buckets, dented thermoses of chai, rotis wrapped in aluminum foil, stale biscuits for afternoon tea break. We survey the field, pair off,...
Content warning: Violent imagery The obvious thing to say would be Butcher Me but Actually I want to be the only thing left entire. Mark out every other Wednesday for the rest of the year To see your hard dyke hands blurring inside a ribcage. Only some have the right...
Mother washes our hair with olive soap. She gives each child a fig; we are going on a journey. We roll out onto the landscape like waterways – by the second roll of the dice, we have already split into forked plans the first son to the right, the second to the left,...
By now, our hairs smell the same. We merge and by merging, we create an enclosure of flesh, insular and reticent and just the loveliest. And on some days, the skies do not look grey at all. The streets criss-crossing our arms are quiet tonight. We take doglegs to...
my garden looks different this morning the day after I gathered a handful of soil from a bigger garden with larger stones and dropped it on my friend’s body I tiptoed away afraid I’d step on her since she’s taken to the company of bugs in a land that doesn’t want...
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