DS Maolalai

      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...

Stephen Keeler

      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...

Marion McCready, Vic Brooks

      Bay Laurel My last will and testament is to be buried under the bay tree flourishing in my back garden. Standing there, year after year, like a planted woman taken from again and again. One day, her leaves will no longer replenish. But for now she...

Sipke Shaughnessy

      Morning mis-en-scène Silence draped across the furniture like fine webbing to catch intruders. Toys left mid-performance, before bedtime’s siren, you marching upstairs. Night made an exhibit of you, a collection of imprints in the mess. I give...