When I was little, I didn't understand. I'd tap the icons on my tablet randomly, looking for her. Dad would have to help. "Mommy's right here," he'd say, pointing to the icon of the white bird. His warm hand folded over my tiny one, guiding my finger to the bird's neck.
I’m not sure exactly how old I was when I first encountered the works of Louise Lawrence—no more than thirteen or fourteen—but I do remember the effect her writing had on me.
passionfruit and lime / layers of fragrance unfolded / aromas thick textured blood wine
In this episode of the Strange Horizons podcast, editor Anaea Lay presents KJ Kabza's "This Is a Letter to My Son."