Poetry

After by Alice Miller

After [more]

At Pukerua by Peter Bland

At Pukerua [more]

The night we ate the baby

We both got home late, the night we ate the baby,
and the girl from the agency was out the door as fast
as she could pocket fifty bucks. You were tired. I was tired.
I cracked open a beer and I watched the Prime Minister
smirk through another TV interview and I grew... [more]

Tom Glew by Jennifer Compton

Tom Glew

If this man hadn’t died untimely in his 37th year in 1886
his widow would not have been forced to keep house
for my great-great whatever and his thirteen children.
Long after his wife died she eventually married him.

He bequeathed it all, everything he died possessed of,
to her, to Lucy Glew, as... [more]