Finola Scott

      Testing times My bones scold-heavy, heartsick I drag my eyes anywhere – to the funeral wax of lilies, to the boastful damselflies confident in their beauty. I refuse to look at, to acknowledge, that Chair, waiting to test. Solid. I...

DS Maolalai

      A movement of flutes I’m rushing. the beer shops all close here at 10pm sharp (that’s unless you’re already in them). I’ve been eating dinner at my parents’ tonight – with my brother and sister and both of their wives. now...

Katie Martin

      nocturne a note lingers a forward echo from an ancient song the lone woman on the long road carries it on with imperfect pitch a gate opens a door opens she is gone a continent away a man well-versed in parting words hums a tear into his own eye...

Hilary Watson

      A Scripted Life Each day the play starts over, you making sure you’re not the protagonist, that yes, you’re listed in the credits but not under this name, or any name you might give to be scrawled on the side of a paper cup by a barista to avoid...

Kik Lodge

      Foresting Grannylou steps into the forest and a thousand Grannylous greet her. A mess of baby Grannylous roll along the forest floor, plum-cheeked and pawing at squirrel tails, giggling at twenty-something Grannylous who slot themselves into...

Vera Zakharov

      Ceres in the garden You wring yourself from me a sort of ripening a size-of-fist fruit pome trailing smashed seed juice you slip from my palms, lovelike my plum pudding prismatised in the light in your soft proto-placental such brilliant viscera...