by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 30, 2026 | Filmpoems
Human Ecologies It had been such a long time… I was surprised by how gently my mother made my hair, asking if she should split the rows, my locs beginning to intertwine. She gently, as if using a miniature rake of a Japanese...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 30, 2026 | Featured, Prose
When You Must Stop a Wedding His phone pings; the morning sun glares. Kyle staggers to the bathroom mirror amidst empty bottles for inducing oblivion. Red-eyed and dishevelled, with stubble masking gray complexion and black hair in matted clumps;...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 29, 2026 | Featured, Poetry
Black Cherry Ice Cream We ate it leaning against the rail above the harbour – black cherry, melting down the cone faster than we could catch it. And you laughed, mouth red, sunlight flaring in your lashes. I watched the boats move below us...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 28, 2026 | Featured, Prose, Uncategorized
Thunderstorms. Fireworks. I’m in the spare bedroom/office. Chrysty’s in a rotten bad mood. she walks the apartment like a donkey stable. kicks holes out of drywall and violently washes up plates. she’s told me get out and I’ve...
by Zakia Carpenter-Hall | Jun 27, 2026 | Featured, Poetry, Uncategorized
How to get here Among the joys of love was when we got our first apartment on a boulevard above the trams and tree-tops and the wires that cut the street like tangram puzzles and our friends would come with olives and cheap wine they found the...
