In that bowl is something sacred, something only two people had witnessed the creation of. I ask Nene if this is what God felt like when he made the world. She tells me that we must feel better, because we never use a recipe.
Tag: grief
FLASH FICTION | Blue Pieces of Sky – Mikki Aronoff
Stevie busies himself trying to match two blue pieces of sky. You watch him working the corners and the glands in your throat swell.
FICTION | Rooms: A Love Letter – Annemarie McCarthy
Inside the atoms of the cavity block extension live the remnants of a thousand John Players.
ONE POEM – Jonny Rodgers
Like thirst – a need to quench, slake, state:
first hearse, first coffin and pallbearing.
TWO POEMS – Simon French
For the good of the country we claimed their land & property. It was necessary for the people.
The Season of Dying Birds — Harriet Sandilands
In the courtyard, at the entrance to the bookshop, an egg smashed on the cobbled ground – albumen, yolk and the bald outline and bulging eye of an almost-bird.
The Other Half-Orphan – Thomas Stewart
I was not the first. I knew that when it happened. But you feel like the only one it’s happening to. Because it’s happening to you, and there’s only one you. My father died when I was 23. He was diagnosed with oesophageal cancer in July and died in February the next year. For the…
TWO POEMS – Penney Knightly
we are wrestling for the same
hooks in time
we are bitter catches
broken holed and punchy
