Prose and poetry by Leen Raats
Influencers without influence are looking for
the hippest hashtags for their Tiktok videos
dancing to the beat of the algorithm.
Incompetent experts by experience
whose unfinished projects grow too fast like children
give TED Talks about the power of failure
with a voice like the melody
of a lonely pinball machine.
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My name is Treesje. I was born on the right bank of the river Scheldt. I am 29, afraid of turning 30, and even more afraid of not turning 30. I hate soccer, cava, and boring people. When I’m home alone, I dance around the living room. I am married to a Sven and mother to a Jade. My husband wants a second child. I always have a window open, even when it’s freezing. I want to feel a breeze.
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My poem “Room to Breathe” appeared in Crannóg Magazine
(issue 60, Spring 2024), a leading Irish literary magazine. I am one of
45 writers published in this issue.
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It’s the music that saved me
on long days underneath the roof window
of a drafty row house on a street
where no one wanted to know me.
At night I dissolved into crowds
like sugar in coffee. Invisible
but everywhere my shadow slipped
along facades, over thresholds where riffs
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Leen writes 