Issue 4

Jane Percival: The Pouākai

My first memory is of being washed up on a desolate shore.

David Morgan O'Connor: Berging

I heard the lake crack open last night. No way. Did too. Woke me up. You know what that means. Berging. Yep. Berging. And you’re gonna die. In your wildest dreams.

Caoimhe McKeogh: Lemon

The lemon was made out of plastic, but it was the same size as a lemon that had grown on a tree.

Antony Millen: The Homeless Men of Mahuika

The first homeless man of Mahuika appeared, seemingly from nowhere, on the eve of December. One day he was nowhere, the next he was sitting on the bench in front of the bus station.

Michelle Matheson: Hurdles

The rounded mound of Emma’s belly was a bridge between them, an unspoken promise in the expanse of their bed. Emma felt the child move. Not the first lemonade bubbles of early pregnancy.