Posts by Zoë R

September 24, 2024 | Fiction

Coyotes

Zoë R

Left to its own devices, the body is remarkably adept at disappearing. Left to others’ devices, its
veins are flushed and filled, lips are sewn shut, eyelids are propped.

January 31, 2022 | Poetry

Tracey, what am I meant to do with all this shit?

Zoë Ranson

Tracey, what am I meant to do with all this shit?

Party snacks
platters of them
orange and puffed up
Moloko rasping from a corner

          there’s an awareness of space, of bug spray

   

September 17, 2019 | Poetry

Letter Home from Hyperspace #2

Zoë Ryder White

There’s a song in my figurative head 
that I can’t shake loose. 
When I was a body, 
I did so many things with my hands, 
I can’t count. 
Around here it smells like lightning, 
like plasma.