‘if there’s nothing out there, why am I searching?’

My plant poem ‘if there’s nothing out there, why am I searching?’ is in this gorgeous issue of Umbel and Panicle!   

This poem is fresh and so new, it won’t even be in Milk Teeth

Have a read of the poem here.

Umbel & Panicle’s Issue 7: Roots is also full of poignant and inspiring poems, including “A Lesson In Uprooting” by Dhiyanah Hassan, “Clearcut” by RL Mosswood, and “Soon Come” by Saleem Hue Penny, and gorgeous photography by Che Gilson.

My poem placed second in the Judith Wright Poetry Prize!

BIG NEWS: My poem ‘what even r u?’ came second in the Overland Literary Journal Judith Wright Poetry Prize!!

Congrats to Evelyn Araluen for her poems ‘Guarded by Birds’ and ‘Dropbear Poetics’ winning first and third places respectively. And also congrats to the shortlisted and commended poets! 

**Read the full announcement on Overland here**

I particularly liked this quote, which sums up my poem perfectly:

“Second-placed ‘what even r u?’ by Rae White is insistent in its breaking down of binaries (gendered in particular but also linguistic, via puns and inversions) while expressing admirable patience in the face of intolerance and abuse.”

PS: on that note, if you’re commenting/writing about this wonderful prize, please note my pronouns are they/them (e.g. ‘they just won a great prize!’) and I am non-binary, NOT a woman or female. Thank you 

The detailed judges’ report and three winning poems will be published in Overland 230, out in late March.

Glitter and Leaf Litter

I have a new short story called ‘Glitter and Leaf Litter’ in Capricious Issue 9: The Gender Diverse Pronouns Issue!

All ten stories in this issue use gender diverse pronouns, featuring short fiction by Nino Cipri, ​Bogi TakácsLauren E. MitchellA.E. Prevost, Cameron Van Sant, Rem Wigmore, Penny StirlingHazel GoldSL Byrne, and myself, edited by A.C. Buchanan, with cover art by Laya Rose.

Buy an electronic copy here!



I have a new spooky story up on Slink Chunk Press!
CW: Trypophobia triggers.

Slink Chunk Press

by Rae White

The air here is hard and mottled like lotus seedpods. My body is pockmarked and frigid.

Each day I’m finding it increasingly difficult to focus. I’m sliding, hardly blinking, mesmerised by the honeycombed revulsion surrounding me. Until I find a clear nook. It only takes one, a tiny seedless space, and I can slip into the office, walk confidently through the security doors and past the lunchroom.

I check my email daily. Or like all good employees, I try to. As my old manager Simon used to say, it’s the dedication that counts. Even if you’re office-bound until late in the evening, at least it looks like you’re doing something.

As I approach my desk I glimpse my old friend: the stained ring from my coffee mug that no one’s bothered to clean off. I make a giggle-tsk noise and Miriam quickly turns her head. She stares at me briefly…

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Xmas in Brissie

Happy festive season, everyone! Please enjoy my sad weird poem about Xmas in Brisbane’s ridiculous heat.

The true meaning of Xmas in Brissie:

[Image description: picture of an Australian beach decorated with illustrations of a sun, cherries and holly. A poem is written over the top of the image:

The true meaning of Xmas in Brissie:

  • The beach, with its recurring applications of
    sunscreen, so your skin feels sticky and sea-
    serpent-slick, your cheeks fever-
    warm, your hair sea-salt-crisp.
  • The deli slices of turkey and ham, rolled-up
    and sweating on a paper plate adorned
    with plastic holly.
  • Your relos singing raucously to songs about
    snow, while you hoard ice down your shirt
    and the gullies of your body become
    swamp-like and dripping.
  • Your cousins playing in the blow-up pool filled
    with ice water. You dip your feet in and drink
    chilled white wine, hoping to delay heat-
    induced nausea.
  • Grazing on leftovers from the fridge for days,
    cherries sitting wrinkled and abandoned
    in the crisper.
  • Back home, a moth jitters in through your
    open window. It abruptly gets sucked in, shredded and
    spat out by the rusting 10 buck Kmart fan
    whirring beside your bed.]