Nana

Nana and I knit. I sit on the red puffe at her feet. She is mild when no one else is here. When I drop a stitch she picks it up.

Grandma

We play drafts and I always choose the colour We watch Gone with the Wind because she says it’s my favourite We eat mince and dumplings because she says its Dad’s favourite

Sumo Sister

She is a little baby sumo Owl eyes and light wisps of honey hair. I tease her by withdrawing my face As she leans to suck my nose. She flops forward but isn’t ruffled.

Bird Lady

The old lady wears tube socks, That stick out from scuffed black boots
Cherry

Baby

I smile like suicide just isn’t an option and when the baby, finally, uncertainly, gives in and smiles back, I am disappointed with it afresh.

Our Tears

To us, they are the innocent drops of pure sentiment, Early or late spills, like seasons, move us, A handkerchief or tissue dabs at the losses, Raw pain surfaces,
Cherry

If I were a girl...

Inspired by, of all things, Beyonce and that rubbish film I paid good money to see last week...

Photo Booth

Background: "Out of the Picture" by Gristo inspired me to write this poem. Thank you Gristo. Put on a subtle grin, Have the instinct to pose perfect, One to four second clinks,

An Unlikely Hero - Issue 0

My name’s Todd Marshall, I’m thirteen years old and I’m the last thing you’d think of when it comes to superheroes.

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