Poetry Weekly – Goodbyes
(a) conversation I laughed and laughed through a mouthful of beads, teeth crunching plaster tongue folding plastic to powdery wisps of lettered strings. Inside his eyes stood a tiny fist wristless swinging and knocking in reach — “The night isn’t always shouting and crowded.” Our br
Poetry Weekly – Flux
Flux Kei Patrick ………………………What ……………………………………….am …………………………….I ………̷
Vida Adamczewski – Poetry Weekly
We leave bits of our bodies everywhere which means the hoover is always full of skin She spent the morning pulling his hair out of the plughole Felted into fibre glass, her hair Chokes up the hairbrush. When she is half awake, She dreams about it falling out in clumps. She’d look odd bald; an
Bugs & Caterpillars – Poetry Weekly
Caterpillar By Adrian Hobbs It was small at first, the mark he left. Awake, I felt along my flank and noticed, for the first time, a hole, cylindrical and exact, bored through me like a flawless bullet. It did not take much light to see the redness on my hand, the loss that left me […]
Sexist politics, silencing, and predatory tutors: Oxford feminists’ battle to be heard
Throughout her life, Judith Okely has experienced institutional misogyny first-hand. When she was at secondary school, she was told by her headmistress that it would be inappropriate for her to apply to Oxford. Not because of academic inferiority—but because she was pretty and, therefore, marriage
Student vs Superpower: Meet the young Hong Kong activists fighting for free speech
When student activist Joshua Wong was arrested three years ago, 10 Hong Kong police officers dragged the skinny 18-year-old to the ground, and proceeded to beat him up. His hands were tied behind his back. He was kicked in the head and face; one officer even allegedly grabbed his genitals. His arres
China and Clay
It was the morning of Christmas Eve – never a big deal in their part of Calcutta – when Putul came in with her mother in a hand-me-down jumper. The Mistress of the Mansion was awake, sweeping the dead leaves in the garden towards the southern wall. She never truly honoured her title, which irked
Home
The cars make incredible noise as they slowly kill the environment; eyes long and yellow, their bodies parading their own masochism. And I would love to be angry. Because I know they’re slowly killing me and everyone, I know everyone is slowly killing everyone. (I don’t want to sound numb