by Lydia Hounat | Sep 28, 2022 | Featured, Haibun, Tanka, Haiku & Haiga, Poetry
Tendril Tongues Why do I keep trying to rekindle old flames when I’ve told her time and time again that a relit cigarette just doesn’t taste the same Willow Becomes Butterfly Our love flows heavy then lingers like tired...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 27, 2022 | Featured, Prose
RAWSON, ARGENTINA Donald’s father was a plumber, his mother a homemaker. As a child, Donald considered his mother’s existence—cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, taking care of Donald and his younger brother—empty. He didn’t think much of his...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 26, 2022 | Featured, Prose
Marking Your Territory It was a pack I’d never seen in my neighbourhood before. A panting bulldog and a big-eyed mutt, with a handsome guy in tow. We were all waiting to cross the street, them on one corner, me on the other, when the guy,...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 25, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Helen (Mother) My mother was alone when she gave birth, save for the flocks of anonymous doctors who removed me from her bloodied womb with spears and forceps, whilst my father marked her agony with stains on the bar. When I arrived late, pink,...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 24, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
Clippers We took turns on the wooden chair, feet bare-soled on the kitchen tiles, head bent forward as if in prayer, the old towel around your shoulders. As the clippers purred, nape to crown, I folded each of your ears in turn, while outside, beyond our...
by Lydia Hounat | Sep 23, 2022 | Featured, Poetry
You who stand in the red dust know that frogs no longer croak for rain. Bare ground cracks across remains of drains, windows in the taman-taman gape-broken and houses semi-detach, uprooting terraces. Absence is only flaking paint. Blown away are...
