Moon mother The moon has my mother’s face and the smile she gave when I swam into her arms one February night. She speaks my name cheerfully down the phone. No hint of the time passed since we last spoke. I will try not to count the days since my...

      During Lockdown Wood Chip Decided To Speak Can’t you see the splendour in my devotion? The satisfaction of ripped corners. Your delight in my demise won’t bring it closer. I am over-painted. You will breathe my dust. My name will trip on your...

      Where We Begin Dandelions lose their lion heads weeds grow up to my ribs, petrified vines cling to last year's bamboo. Three planets in our morning sky, my breath burns. Things we barely understand derelict hauntings, satellite showers and a month...

      Hawthorn The gangrene smell is gone by the time the berries grow, and I am tempted to cut red branches and arrange them in jam jars throughout the house, too full of sour roasting fruit to remember the warning I heeded in May. I start to wear...

    Back to Normal He unfurled for nine months like paper folded more than eight times over, springing outwards in his eagerness, and this morning parts of him were birthed again.   MRI round three and it’s knockout, brain scans showing water before it...

    We spend a slow morning At this hour, the air is wind unstilled by the April sun. The mynahs are on errands – I hear less song more wing. I am warmed by the habitual honey lemon and beside me the dog is snoring. At this hour, the room is a cup and...

    Bake yourself some unicorns After Rishi Dastidar Start your day with a cheese board; wear lycra to work; decorate your eyelids with glitter made from reclaimed rainbow tears; slay your greetings — wink with both eyes — say goodbye instead of hello; only...

    What is there to say About petals? They precede seeds, And return every year: each happening Contains its own undoing, brings The next one in its wake. The world in a perpetual State of adolescence, everything Not quite this anymore, but not that yet. A...

    Froglet Bisexual began in the tiny black pupil of a frogspawn pearl. It grew inside a jellied eye, shuddering out a tail, feathered gills. Dilating as it observed a dim world, sucking in light like a vacuum. Collapsing in on itself, reforming, nudging...