Jackson

Perth, Western Australia, 1994 A Baptist wedding, minister a game-show host, sleazing over the decorative bridesmaids, joking with the model-boy groomsmen. “Obey” was bad enough, but this 18-year-old vows to submit! “Submit to him in everything.” My vision blurs with bruises. And he and she are told to commit, and sacrifice themselves to a life… Read more

It softly touches the bricks at its edge, a gentle but definite border. The bricks say        You can’t come past here!        This is our flower bed! The lawn says        OK, I won’t        but let me look. The bricks let it look. First published in Pixel Papers Read more

The clattering, jabbering, echoing train Diesel in the air, on my tongue, in my nose The shuddering, rattling, lumbering train Flashing, enormous, storming in close to the wet flesh of my neck on the rail. Read more

All the buskers have your eyes        eyes slightly sad,        almost content. All the buskers have your beard        beard large, greying,        almost tidy. All the buskers are sweet folky teddies except the angular youth with the electric guitar. The guitar is a wooden Gibson SG. He plays the blues. He’s more like… Read more

When I was nineteen I dreamed of Martha’s son. I recognise him now that I see him. I wanted to be him. Martha’s son in the long black boots the lanky walk the stylish voice the perfectly abandoned hair. I’ll bet he plays a Rickenbacker. At nineteen I wanted to be him. I could never… Read more

For now, you are new almost pristine. I put you with the others your older sisters worn, used, lived-in, but still prickling with quiet promise: their honest colours have not faded. After years of giving they have so much. One day I’ll get a CD player I suppose And replace you all But I’ll keep… Read more