By Steph Matuku   Every month, this happens. My little brother and I go to bed and he pulls the curtains wide so the round moon can shine through. The silvery light falls to the floor, slides up the bed, and lands on my brother’s face. His cheeks begin to itch...

By Steph Matuku This is a piece of prose that was featured in an anti-fracking art exhibition in New Plymouth, March 5 – 26 2017, at JD Reid Gallery. I’m not fully down with fracking, I think it’s harmful and unnecessary. I wrote this from the...

By Steph Matuku   Every morning when the alarm went off, Brent farted, sat up and stretched. This particular morning however, the alarm didn’t go off and the usual irritated mound of wife next to him was absent. He found her on the couch downstairs drinking coffee,...