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Prose

Gathering Sticks

13 February 2018

In Footscray now; people in soft-focus and wrapped in silk. Asphalt melts, sticks to my boot. English as second language, sitting shopfront lilting “hello, hello.” Everyone stands in circles, straw hats from the Bunnings up the road. Kebab shop closes at eight.

We weed in the backyard, months of houses changing hands. Someone tried to salt the earth but it all grew back. We plant sunflowers and hope for the best.

I look for bed frames on Gumtree. Leave my window open so the bugs fly in. Roam streets of aniseed and chilli, find a squat toilet at the shops.

I drink moonshine from the place down the road. Watch Coyote Ugly on the flat screen. Bleed on the velvet couch. Esther sets mouse traps and I take them away. We find a ponytail on the bookcase. I keep it in a ziplock bag in the kitchen drawer.


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