By Leanne Dunic

Leanne Dunic transgresses genre and form to produce projects such as To Love the Coming End (Book*hug/Chin Music Press 2017) and The Gift (Book*hug 2019). She is the leader of The Deep Cove (link), living on the unceded and occupied traditional territories of the Squamish, Musqueam, and Tsleil-Waututh people. You can learn more about her at

Ghosts Are Everywhere

Large, emerald mountains materialize through the haze as our ferry approaches Tokashiki. The landscape is a contrast to the flat terrain and the bustle of Okinawa. The ride becomes rough as we get closer, but the bumps are no problem. I’m on boats regularly for work. I can handle waves. Due to lack of sleep, I barely made the ferry on time, boarding at exactly nine in the morning. The boat departed seconds later. A similar event happened yesterday when I nearly missed my flight from Kyushu to the Ryukyu Islands. The doors of the plane closed two minutes after…


Trace thumb along gut. Ignore the ammonia odour of sacrifices past. Aim for the triangular target. Squeak. A bead of urine emerges. Hold faith, the church of reason, the sake of humanity. Prepare for fixation: Splay spine against styrofoam board paper towel lined. For the sake of humane tap paws for reflex. Pin apart palms. Affix feet. Snip pelt, tweeze. Clip membranes, ribs. Through buck-toothed gasps the thoracic cage deflates. Saline cleanses        next to godliness. Fluid billows, a sunset damp on paper. Demystify        heart hype hope. Waste not, want – need another heart.