When the memories flood through her skin
like milk – when you pour it into porridge,
Her world melts.
Listening to X only after he’s dead
Capitalising on vintage Woolworths’ plastic bags
Remixing washed out lo-fi vinyls from Savers
I took aim, and released.
Mushroom clouds snapped apart;
a wafer-thin crunch,
a child treading on dry leaves,
dust gliding aimlessly against light.
There’s a monster I’ve heard of
over the years
that appears in the place of corporeal men.
You didn’t answer my question though For my sins I live in Melbourne Where love is For all but Only A suggestion. Will These Failures grow Meaning through repetition ? I keep seeing your face-painted concern, when I Spill my drink almost falling between your Mismatched chairs. […]
notebook coffee fingers flicker
ballpoint scribble absent liquor
comrades vanish doonas beckon