
June 15, 2019
Come The Tide is the debut collection of short stories from Sam Reese and is published by Platypus Press. The collection has received universal praise and acclaim; fellow writer Pradba Yoon claims that "stories like these can make existence feel convincing, and creatio...
June 9, 2019
This country is too flat, she tells me. Maybe it’s because of all the people—like they’ve trampled out all the interesting dips and curves. Maybe it’s the weather. The weight of all that gloom. She has a point; when you’re used to mountains, meadows look depressed.
...
May 26, 2019
Into your loneliness
we place our voices,
hoping our words
might comfort your wounded heart.
We do not mean
to remind you
of all you have lost
by extolling the manifold virtues
of your husband
now gone, but we are foolish
in the face of grief,
never knowing whether
to share our ow...
May 18, 2019
Stepping out onto the veranda, Zina opens her mouth to the wind, her lips pursing like the surrounding Zhiguli mountains, her eyes closing with gentle surrender. The dusty remains of dry clumps of grain still cling to the palms of her hands...
May 12, 2019
She Rinsed
the breakfast dishes
as her children were leaving,
they left two moist goodbye-kisses
on her cheek. She plunged her hands into hot water,
awakening a thousand little scars. Now, the bed sheets were clean.
She was surrounded by all types of water, not blue skin...
May 6, 2019
What have those watery globes
in industrial goggles seen?
Frozen lakes, dance halls, unexpected
Goodbyes, I’m sure.
Locked vaults of anaesthetic and no
combination. You’ve trapped me in those unbroken
codes.
I know you want to forget,
but every mispronunciation
reminds me of wh...
April 22, 2019
Bed’s creaking.
He’s up.
Why are you still up?
He’s down.
Downstairs
Why do you feel so down?
-
Don’t you have work in the morning?
-
Clink clink.
Guts pour down. TV blares....
April 14, 2019
Blindness has an unfortunate way of announcing itself. It rarely goes unnoticed. Its presence is often made certain through the uncertain, waving radius of a black stick. Sometimes, there’s sunglasses too. Though, Alfred hated those. He thought they sucked all the sens...
April 9, 2019
For the longest evening, we have nothing.
The lorry is delayed, and we squat in an
unfurnished box, pine-smelling and so clean
it hurts the eyes to look. We are waiting
to hear the growl of our possessions rolling
into the gravel drive, but it’s silent here
and there’s nothi...
April 5, 2019
Remember. I remember. dark words, deep roots in the ground, the earth, rising, oh how it is rises. Out of the dirt, growing, grappling up around the trunk. A weed, a weakness never mended, a hole never filled, a gap left exposed. Vacant. Expression…less than before, I...