Jackson

In this forest I smell the leaves, always the leaves, their eucalyptus breath But not today Today I smell, dark but not dirty, the alkali cleansing of charcoal and ash I hear not beaks, not bright feathers, only the baritone wind and my soft alto heart I taste not smoke, not now, but fire-dust surrounded… Read more

She said ‘They put me in a prison, took away my name, gave me a number instead. For a year I was there, called by a number, answering to a number, giving a number when they asked my identity.’ My eyes were wet as she bravely made her speech. A young woman. I can’t remember… Read more

If I want to speak here, it seems I must wear this colourful suit they have given me. They say it looks good on me, makes me appear more interesting. But it’s too small: my shoulders are too broad, my arms reach well beyond the cuffs, my hips are too wide, I can hardly bend… Read more

The ambulance comes. My son— soft hair, round face, big eyes— gets a choice of bears: blue or yellow, both hand-knitted, character-faced, hug-sized. After some deliberation, he chooses blue, names him Bluey, cuddles him during the prodding and questioning and afterwards brings him home. It’s all the people in their ones and twos who are… Read more

24 March 2013 Perth, Western Australia To walk to the bakery I put on my fedora. I hate that it covers my ash-blonde hair but it shades my sensitive English skin. I go past the graffiti and through the park to the bridge. On my left below a railing the river glints. On my right… Read more

a tree trees music dancing a coastline a product scent or breath a shell a voice voices furniture hands or nails or fingers hands or nails or fingers a tarmac road a bird a bird fabric or coat or clothing fabric or coat or clothing fabric or coat or clothing fabric or coat a building… Read more