‘Service Station’, Leila Dickinson

Service Station Maybe you could buy me a neck cushion, an overpriced coffee or a Krispy Kreme from WHSmith. You could laugh at me in baggy on-the-road clothes, glorified pjs you might say. Perhaps you’d wait for me outside the loos and we’d moan about how they need a good clean. We might discuss how strange it is to have gambling stations here. If I … Continue reading ‘Service Station’, Leila Dickinson

‘i think stars taste like tinfoil’, Hannah Bean

i think stars taste like tinfoil i think stars taste like tinfoil. hearts are always wine- dark, tempered, stomach-stirred, ripe like my mother’s berries, our saved summers. but stars are crisp, sharp-edged, burnt hollow, stamped static. they taste warm until the blood stops tasting sweet and starts tasting like metal again. and a few times a year i wrap myself up and i werewolf myself … Continue reading ‘i think stars taste like tinfoil’, Hannah Bean

‘Delay No More’, Anon.

Delay No More  Delay no more Discussion of our handover. Our future, discussed over Foreign blood. ‘How’s that Pekking Duck’, smiles Deng, ‘A little raw’, Thatcher notes.  Delay no more Discussion of bold men, In cravats and ties. Panda express, ‘one Donald deal, with a side of Leung.’ System Error.  Delay no more Discussion of broken umbrellas, Abducted books, and anger infused tears. Take our … Continue reading ‘Delay No More’, Anon.