Poetry | Penstock Lagoon

Type
Article
Category
Friday Poetry
Poetry

We wake by still water to what sounds like a large pearl dropped from a great height, it breaks the surface tension with a resonant nasal tock more than a splash. A lake is an inland expanse of standing water. This one is nine hundred and sixty-three metres above sea level.

Type
Fiction
Category
Fiction

New face in the fight against poverty

Several things happen. I wake up. I hear the appeal of the advertising cruisers creeping past my building. My skin flames where it rubbed against the grainy sheets. Still two more days before I can do a load of washing. My Palm lights up with messages from work, Mum and (surprise, surprise) no men. And my mind remembers too late my affirmation principles: today is a good day. I am good. I am today. And all that. But I feel like death, or worse, like life gone on too long. Mornings like this, with the abrupt awakenings and the too-late affirmations, I fall into a mood made up of a single thought: is this all the apartment my hard work can afford?

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Type
Fiction
Category
Fiction

Home sweet slaughterhouse

It was the machine attached to someone’s arm that woke me up. That type of machine on wheels they use to monitor blood pressure, take your pulse, drip meds into you. It was beeping loudly. They always seem to. I became aware of feeling cold. Hospital cold. I was lying on my back. I felt like I was perfectly straight. I pulled the covers up to my neck. I nestled into the warmth of the bed as best I could but I still could feel the cold all around the room above me. I kept very still. What else was there to do?

Type
Poetry Prize
Category
Judith Wright Poetry Prize

Judith Wright Poetry Prize 2021 Third Place, stones

he asks to see each pill I take, a catalogue blue|green and yellow|pink|tangerine each one a promise, a spell: make my mother well we lie on my bed and watch the birds, eyes leaf-green somewhere between autumn and spring

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Type
Poetry Prize
Category
Judith Wright Poetry Prize
Poetry

Judith Wright Poetry Prize 2021, the national debt

ok, let’s get rid of everything. let’s just have, i just, i just want plumbing, art a steady stream a community and Lucy and i suppose modern medicine…… and a big mac and a decent rosé        …

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