The indifferent scale.
The quarry, the calcite,
the silicon, the mine,
the lorry, the sulphite,
nanocarbon, the time.
Yet you breed.
Overuse, worlds of health.
The mangroves, the fishing,
the resulting, the dams,
the lostwove, the locking,
polyhalite, the cans.
Yet you survive.
You see all this, all this loss,
and somehow scavenge a thriving
from our killing your home.
You are enough to give a man hope.
About the Contributor
Ben Gwalchmai is a maker, worker, & writer who was W.N.O.’s writer-in-residence, a Historical Novel Society ‘Editor’s Pick’ for his novel Purefinder, and a shortlisted poet in the Melita Huma Poetry Prize 2016.
The Complete Stories - Amy Hempel
he's the best damn short story writer I've ever known and her works - short, sharp knives or memories or forgivings and graces - have the most remarkable habit of leaving you both bereft and elated at your loss, knowing you've somehow sluiced someone's else's loss [or shame or need] with them. When they're not loss, they're the pollen in the hot air bringing the gnats to frenzy, gifting you the sight as you read in the shade. This collection is, quite simply, heartbreaking. For all the best reasons.
More from Issue Eight:
- Calendar Girls by Max Wilkinson
- Mushroom Speed Boosts by Ben Reynolds
- Sestina by Imogen Russell Williams
- Under the Maple Roots by Joshua Bealson
- Snow, Sunday, Late February by James O’Neill
- Not Waving, but Washing by Tabitha Siklos
- Kites by Ben Gwalchmai
- A tribute to austerity by Sanmeet Kaur
- Something like the beginning of love by Olga Dermott-Bond
- Why is it Called a Thunderstorm, When it’s the Lightning That Kills You? by Katt Thompson
- My Greenland Halibut by Amanda Oosthuizen
- Say Hello, Wave Goodbye by Emma Venables