I won LEGO. It was a big box containing pieces that would’ve made my entry even better – perhaps even better enough for first place. There was a certificate as well but I don’t remember ever seeing that again. I asked my mother recently but she told me she hadn’t either. I reckon my stepfather tore it to pieces in a vicious fit of jealousy on account of what I’d built – a crane like those my father operated; my father who was never around. If only it’d been my stepfather operating cranes instead. He had a bad leg and might’ve slipped.

From Guest Contributor Chris Parlett

Key, copper, brassed to pocket. All my pockets, cash folded at the corners. Dirty, keep my fingers pointed down. Pennies in mouth, brassy taste bitter on my tongue a cancer canker sore. Lincoln freed the slaves. Hopeless. Key in slot, key in slot, key in slot.

Brick dreams stacked red on red. Maybe brownish red. Brick red. Crayola whitewash. I can’t forget my key ever. Don’t forget.

Genre: Joyce