Fiction    Reading Room    Memoir    Interview
Ashleigh Young

My Amour

I’m growing armour, my amour.
Thick leather and scurf is all over my body
replacing my skin, now creeping along the walls of my lungs.
By degrees my breath grows numb.
           I wake up and my head is enveloped in tin.
I slide back a little door, and there you are sleeping
and I close it again.
My mouth rattles at the grating. If you are to hear me
I must shout everything.
I clank hopelessly when we go walking, like a terrible
broken engine, pistons frothing. My amour you take my rusted hand
and lift it gently, not minding.
 
Poetry
Johanna Aitchison
Michele Amas
Angela Andrews
Airini Beautrais
Jenny Bornholdt
Amy Brown
Lynn Davidson
Emily Dobson
Fiona Farrell
Cliff Fell
Janis Freegard
Helen Heath
Anne Kennedy
Stefanie Lash
Jan Lauwereyns
Vana Manasiadis
Talia Marshall
James McNaughton
Alice Miller
Gregory O’Brien
Frances Samuel
Robyn Schiff
Marty Smith
Elizabeth Smither
Chris Tse
Nick Twemlow
Ashleigh Young   (audio)

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