Eggs and tea
(For Jessica) I’ve been trying to eat fewer eggs lately on the head of your soi at the kai jeow stall we’d stand in flip-flops hands crumpling green notes and watch eggs swirl into omelettes in a smoking black wok and a savoury steam would slip like a whisper into your elevator,
out of sync
maybe we’ll come together again in the neighbourhood coffee shop that stands at the edge of feeling and maybe we’ll know what we want – the smells of fried bread, cooking oil, and overripe fruit blending into each other as my eye
The Isis Podcasts: In conversation with Steven Sater
Join us in conversation with Steven Sater, a Tony, Grammy and Laurence Olivier award winning poet, playwright and lyricist. Steven Sater has dedicated his life to musical theatre, drama and music. In this podcast we discuss Steven’s recent novel Alice by Heart, the historical and linguistic in
An Hour After the Phone Call
the woman with a cigarette curses upwards death takes too long she says she grows inside out to house her flaws laughs again despite the walls she laughs despite the persistence she laughs her raspy voice passes through me and flows into another ear ca
Two women
are wearing high necked jumpers, wrapped up to their chins like coffee cup sleeves. Their spines taut trunks, […]
Keep
I don’t see it as a word anymore spell out every letter enunciate every syllable begging for kinship from a word so distant, like your grandmother’s saris, the one in the pictures where she smiles unaware of being photographed woven in Banaras, home to poverty and colour, eyes wandering from
Rubber Fire
Horizon catches the cap of our neighbour’s fire oiling gashes through wood floorboards spiked with old plimsolls. The deadliness is in the sunsink behind the flames: in things suspended there is so much space quivering from absence into being. Strange faith. I tap your shoulder to ma
because my mother’s best friend is catholic
today it seems the missionaries are bound to send their best-disguised recruit – the tickle of hair on your top lip better found at the wheel of a Ford F-150, camo drying on the boot, but filters the word of G-d to a tinny sound a frequency between carrie underwood and orchestral flute, cou
Cinema
My grandparents came from a movie-going age – he would call from the office and my grandmother would dress all her children in evening clothes, and wait. At the cinema, the world dissolved into light and sound, the salt of popcorn on your fingertips, and pink soda that fizzed up your nose,