INTERVIEW | Artist Mimi Kunz

I found that writing and art keep me sane, they’re like a room of my own in a time when I’m rarely alone.

TWO POEMS – Stephanie Powell

Am I livestock or the boning knife?
Amongst the timid lambs, half-dreaming

FICTION | Rooms: A Love Letter – Annemarie McCarthy

Inside the atoms of the cavity block extension live the remnants of a thousand John Players.

FICTION | Bruises – Keenan Lew

They say a lot of the work of being poly is scheduling. When I say ‘they’ I mean smug influencers with poorly produced podcasts, and when I say ‘being poly’ I hate myself.

ONE POEM – Marianne Habeshaw

My family observes the emu cage. Beaks so vengeful, I realise we’re taking the piss.

ONE POEM – C.W.Bryan

I first saw her walking,
the folds of her ink blue dress
turning the earth;

POETRY IN TRANSLATION – Bartosz Konstrat, tr. Dawid Mobolaji

But from time to time it does exist. Something like a stray lash under the eyelid
trying to catch its last breath.

TWO POEMS – Cara L. McKee

at least the colour I’m told is
robin’s egg blue, like
boy-baby blankets, like
deep breaths of sunshine.

ONE POEM – Susan G. Byron

It’s these questions I have. (An astral whodunnit: a whydreamit).

ONE POEM – Atma Frans

They’re small animals
wriggling to get out

Just let us touch the crust, they say
feel it crackle

ONE POEM – Satya Bosman

I know it’s over when I picture the train carriage
it’s an old-fashioned carriage with burgundy velvet seats
a little room in my memory.

ONE POEM – Finlay Worallo

You are sun-skinned, but my half
of the planet is tumbling into the dark.