A whisper of a life on a different sea.
Sunken are the relics of who I’m supposed to be.
Displaced wounds and fragmented scrawl.
I grew up too fast and not at all.
But I could do it, you know?
Take the banksia in my hands and
vase it, for the chance
of sucking honey from the world
as we bow to one another.
i wrote my name in the shores of your palms, over and over
each time the ocean washed it out, a message
she would soon turn into a lesson.
Night skies above me twinkling in splendour,
Trillions of photons that offered me life.
I yearned to be a star in the tender
Vault, no longer rooted in mortal strife.
The darkness webs from
shattered homes in silence,
and spreads through the petrol-stations
and the pizza shops on Saint Georges Road.
Have you heard about the Night of the Beast? It’s the day those creatures we cared for, creatures we treasure, and the creatures we hunted come back to our world. Clothed in the skin of the underworld, fit for a hot summer evening, they march down the streets, their legs returning them to homes where the memories of them subsist.21 May 2018