By Rach PS When she was small, she imagined her bed could fly away like in Bedknobs and Broomsticks, kneel up, tap three times and wish. There were other clues; mud mixed with piss launched at the neighbours’ cars unprovoked, a note in the spelling book signalled a bad influence. The boys exposed themselves first, but when she did there were consequences. Dad threatened to leave after every weekend row. ‘Divorce!’ bandied about like taking it for granted, leaving the tap run

By Oak Morse I have visions of a hammer swinging into my face sideways through a car window though strapped in a seatbelt, there I go there goes the rasp of Grandma saying she loved me the blueberries I pushed up my brother’s nose the Jenga playdate with the shrink in glossy building like an elevator to heaven the tooth fairy who never came back now teeth tumble down my chest, clog my throat there goes creeping out late to watch grown-folks dance Mama

By Melanie Weckert Connecting genocidal colonialism in two continents. I see a bright thread floating from cloud to watchful bird, catching at feathers of grey and white, slipping through claws of razor-sharp, threading the water of the river to caress a fish, then soar to the top of Eagle Point Bluff. A kiss for the boy who looks heaven in the eye and sees for a moment an angel is there. We wind around children at play as unending games are ended and aun