Junglescape, Meagan Dwyer The arrhythmic pulse of jazz makes my back arch as I strike a match against the curved edge of your jaw; the thought of you is like stepping outside after a movie when the…
Talking Dead, Amanda Stephen As a child, one of her favourite games had been holding her breath. This usually took place in the bathtub, still big enough to swallow her whole. She would let the warm water relax…
Beauty and Power, Jini Park If I had known it was Julie calling my name across the fluorescence of the supermarket, I wouldn’t have turned around. “Maurine,” the voice called, again. I turned and saw her waddling…
Self-Portrait, Thomas Vause The man I love says there is no God. With lips that could bring the Devil to his knees And a voice that could carve the Red Sea. And me? And me wishing I…