VOLUME TWO

BA T T E R Y PA C K

Making Love In The TVColin Hill

THE STRANGEST thing happenedtoday as I sat watching the telly:your face appeared and yousmiled at me and you asked meto come in and join you. “Comein”, you said, “the screen iswarm”. So I crawled in throughthe back of the set, and instead ofthe ten o’clock news the wholecountry saw us making love inthe TV.

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Polling DayJennifer Albon Burns

THE BOY WHO bullied me at schoolis a politician now. We cross pathsevery now and again, on the longtrain ride to the office. Histrustworthy expression emergeson a turned page, hands frozenmid­sentence. A sincere, wrinkledgesture. I recall the day theyshoved my face into the lavatory,characteristically determined, theviolent spray of hatred. Onpolling days, oddly enough, Ican’t bring myself to vote.

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MessLucy Yates

THE WHITE CRUST crunches as hershoes sink in. Dazzling blanknessstretches to the empty horizon.Her breath catches in her chest.She walks on, her heart beatingfaster. Jagged peaks rear up, thetops burnt brown. It’s hoursbefore she rounds the foothills,shadows sloping over thecrumbly, white drifts. Aheadsuddenly a plain covered by giantred boulders. She squints into thedusk. Raspberries, just as she’dthought.

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KitchenmirrorAndrew Jack Foster

EVERYTHING WAS ordinary untilthe teabag screamed. The soundwas cracked and ragged, a thickgasping that didn’t stop until Ijerked it up out of the boilingwater. I stared. The thing twistedon its string, convulsing, choking.Of their own accord, my lipsparted. I reached down with twofingers extended. The boilingwater twitched the breath frommy lungs as I pushed the teabagback below the surface.

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Fifty Thin MenCatherine Edmunds

FIFTY THIN MEN march home. Fivethousand went out. We run intothe streets, grab. They hug back ­bandaged eyes, or unbound,bloody. My man’s gone. I knewthese boys: we played kiss chase.Now they cry when kissed, in joyand terror.

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VigilRosemary Harris

HE WONDERED where everyonehad got to. He was hungry.During his long backyard vigilhe’d been aware of somecommotion: sirens had wailed fordays and distant fires hadilluminated the night sky. But allwas quiet now, the noise replacedby an ever­worsening stench ofdecay. Still, he waited in hiskennel, faith unwavering. Hispeople would come soon. They’dbring food and their love, andthey would untie him.

DEATHRAYCONFERENCE.WORDPRESS.COM

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