Brixton Street Wetlands

By Siobhan Hodge
Poem by Siobhan Hodge on Right Now

The lopped heads of Tuarts bare red-ringed eyes
towards the heavens. Growing loops cut back,
the cockatoos scream overhead. Theirs is a horror
for the homeless. Head of family bent under tyre
tread that troops through swamp. The acrid smoke
over fermented leaves and the relief
of peppermint gums. Heads of state pray
jobs, jobs, jobs
the same old song, the same old state
of play. What we need most. Crystal Brook
closed for business. Priority species slip
beneath another portfolio, all on desks
and office suites far from the killing field.
Dead Tuarts stretch for the sun. Appropriate controls
look so much better on paper.



Blackout (poem)

By Bänoo Zan

Bänoo Zan’s poem was written in the aftermath of countrywide protests against sudden steep rise in fuel price in Iran on November 15. Authorities shot down the Internet of the whole country and embarked on a horrific killing spree. Amnesty International has so far verified 208 deaths in less than a week.