Each day, we walk down the red dirt track that rises up like a sand spit from the lake. We pass groups of men, women, children sitting by the side of the road, watching the port, waiting.
Eight Days in Mwanza by Jane Murray Bird
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Magazine
On Midway Island by Jessica Pollard
the birds snort plastic instead of coke / and collapse on the beach like Tiny Tim when / he tried to become a ukulele
Amphibian by Christina Neuwirth
I am writing to inform you that, after the last Sales Review, the revenues from the fourth floor have been deemed less than satisfactory. It has therefore been decided that the fourth floor will be gradually put under water
Safeway by Jessica Pollard
my life got ruined in the produce aisle / all the wounds scabbed over / with ritz cracker
Kauaʻi ʻōʻō by Janneke de Beer
Mine is not a complicated song. It has been sung for generations before me, and it will be sung for generations more. On a clear day, it can be heard for miles
Winter Children by Natalie Crick
I’ve learned to read by the lamps / of women reading on the south coast. / I’ve peered into the darkness, / no matter how cold.
Declan by Scott Manley Hadley
The dead dog rattles in its box on the back seat. I’m driving as fast as I can, faster than I should. All I brought with me were the box and the spade.
You Can’t Always Get What You Want by Claire Askew
It might be a good start / if you knew what what you want / was. If you stopped trying / to do the right thing
Prototype by Aquinas
I’ve conjured a clone / more successful and lively than me. / I polish their bolts and bits – remedy their short circuits.
Pizzabrain by Sofia Ballesteros
“If you listen to pop music, your brains will melt all splotchy like a pizza,” warned Mother Mary Moppet, headmistress of our school, during a parent–student assembly.