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: writer
ONE POEM – Lola Dekhuijzen
Sometimes I cheated,
let my sheets stand dead still
in the supermarket queue while I
hid in bed. No one suspected a thing.
ONE POEM – Jacob J Billingsley
About as full as a trout hung
by its gills in the smokehouse,
guts left to bake in the sun
ONE POEM – Olivia Walwyn
First frost of the year
and the river is submerged in mist;
a blaze of sunlight
melting everything to dew.
ONE POEM – Lee Fraser
are fig leaves poisonous
good first foods
solar powered roaster
basic metallurgy
ONE POEM – Daniel Cartwright-Chaouki
I get lost in the soft tips of the cedar tree
hanging over the fence
My parents melt into deckchairs
like American cheese
ONE POEM – Adrienne Weiss
I find a seat,
hold a headache in my hands, cradle it like a rock
between fingers, think about how this birthday
will be soup and crackers and cancelled plans.
ONE POEM – John Dorroh
How did a barrel-chested man learn
this magic? Softened like golden butter
in a dizzy aftermath, he did too many wars perhaps.
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 – J.M.Summers
It is an old superstition.
The mirror, and the room
dark behind it but for the
flickering of a few fading
candles.
FICTION | Summer Buzz 1960 – Anne Irwin
She arms herself with the metal pipe of the Electrolux
with the precision of a marksman
