Foliage by Jordan Towns With her cup of tea nestled warmly in her hands, Josie admired the morning fog travelling through the mountains. The light, single-degree temperatures stung her lungs each time she breathed in too deeply. After finishing only…
By J.A. Lightfoot CONTENT WARNING – Graphic Imagery They call him Sightless Bob. The call him Sightless because he has no eyes, and they call him Bob because of the old joke. What do you call a man with no arms…
By Vinnie Batten The humble Bushturkey. He pecks, he rakes, he builds. He makes the largest and moistest mound of leaf litter in the suburb, maintained at exactly 33°C, and the ladies (identified by their much smaller and more pale–yellow wattle around their…
By Daniel Brown Paradise is table-top gaming Four adventurers set out on a noble quest to rescue their friend from mysterious forces. Floating intangibly in the space above and yet also alongside and within them, four players sit around a table. Some…
By Thomis Bride Ding. The microwave sung its note and the lasagne was now warmer than room temperature. Warmer than the atmosphere of the breakroom at least. A seat near the window at the head of one of the tables…
By Claudia Shelley Are you awake Moon? Are you awake like me? Like eyes squeezed open. Like primitive colours of amygdala. Can you hear me Moon? Can you hear my silence? Darkness holds my bones afloat. The sun will…
By Amanda Thomas Our favourite tracks waver through the stereo, as sea-green falls away, our worries flow down the bridge connecting the mainland to the island. Hands hot on the steering wheel. Eyes crinkling under sunglass and steel. The breeze pulls…
Science says in seven years My skin won’t wear you But in seven years When your touch has flaked off And you’re in my carpet Or under the fingernails of someone new will my heart still wear you? And will you…
I was once told sometimes sex is compliance. So conditional, respect that I’m expected to sublet my body to maintain the bonds of love? Truth told; love doesn’t require compliance.
By KLS Now I understand that my body is music. Stretch marks are my staff lines and every mark, every mole, every freckle is a note etched upon my skin. I won’t apologise if you’re deaf to this song or…
