By Katie Kendall
She takes me out for dinner just to watch the waitress undo her sugar hair behind the kitchen door. That's the kind of girl I like, she says. I don't remember when I stopped trying to become myself. I watch the waitress, her
By Priya Gauchan
Being queer is my identity and
I wear it out every day.
Being a woman is my identity and
I wear it with my head held high.
Being a person of colour is my identity and
I wear that daily too.
All these tags inked
on every inch of my skin.
By Zara Khan
One boy has a frangipani in his hair–
They sit, he smiles
On a crowded bus,
I can barely see him.
They all attach to the different
Veins you can see
Running through my arms.
I am a body made up of colours–
A working network hidden
By Eva Caley
I think I choose to remember the wonder. I was entranced. “Charmed” was the word I think you would have used. I remember the nights of dancing, talking, secrets shared from whispered lips, and dripping crystal eyes that flickered, candle-like, in the darkness.
By Roisin McGee
I’m supposed to be writing your eulogy now. Mam called last night and asked if I could speak at tomorrow’s service, because she couldn’t bring herself to. I couldn’t force myself to say “no” to her shaking voice. I haven’t even seen her
By Sharon Wong
Image: Joe Benke, Fairfax
In a democracy, there is first that most splendid of virtues equality before the law. Secondly it has none of the vices of monarchy: for all offices are assigned by lot, all officials are subject to investigation and all policies