Category: Past issues
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MARTY SMITH
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1 | 2 Fencing And in the coal cupboard you can hide filthy and quiet. Quietly beside the kauri chest, gold meshed the radio static fizzy and raspberry biscuits. The long road between us is eaten all up. We talk about things, her paintings (cough). Rows of roses oddly…
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MERCEDES WEBB-PULLMAN
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1 | 2 Waiting for a tsunami The attic roof is sand-bagged, we hear loud shouting as echoes wake to the sun, and the bristling lips of earth float out of depth in the air where a blindfold of warm velvet hides day, frees its comb to the…
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MERCEDES WEBB-PULLMAN
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1 | 2 Traffic patterns I was trundling my recyclables in their special dark green plastic receptacle down to the local collection platform next to the telephone and internet connection pillar near the stormwater grate beside the gutter outside #23 Tilley when all the traffic on the highway stopped.…
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MICHAEL BOTUR
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Wet & Forget I’m hosing out my head waterblasting regrets, unpeeling lichen stickers here’s one stuck nugget: slithering belts unbuckled methane-breath inside the cold damp duvet we scuttled under timid nibbles, your moth lips a cavern of nitrogen your mildewed clothes beside a dribblin’ Wellington window your theories on…
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MICHAEL KEITH
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1 | 2 Far North in memory of FSK The Hokianga was the furthest north we went together. We never reached Cape Reinga, Te Rerenga Wairua a journey that you wondered if you’d make in spirit form – take the local flight path, then bank left head west for…
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MICHAEL KEITH
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1 | 2 To seat 23E At the outset nothing is between the woman in the aisle seat and me in the window seat except you, 23E, and your emptiness across which eyes meet and pleasantries exchange; but then your sly transformation into a pool of first…
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MIRIAM BARR
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The Things We Carried My body is not a clock it has driftwood in it four stone adzes a beech tree, kauri a stand of kahikatea in the swamp six pieces of broken glass on the tide line five of them polished smooth. My body is not a…
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LAURICE GILBERT
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Real Estate When the house sold we opened a bottle and drank to our success, already planning how to spend our share. We didn’t discuss the fruit trees Dad tended or the roses Mum sprinkled throughout the beds, for those of us left to weed around at our…
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LORRAINE SINGH
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1 | 2 Lost Nephew Trucks rumble past my sister’s house it is early the sea has thrown us back your body I sleep in your old room It is early what woke me? I sleep in your old room moths whirl dying What woke me? you…
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LORRAINE SINGH
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1 | 2 The Angel In the ensuing turmoil an angel glides out as dowdy as a sparrow undeterred on a surfboard he paddles his way toward you and you are lifted your head cradled in his arms and for a moment the sun gilds his magnificent wings the…