It was a cold summer that year. What I remember is the chill on my skin as you stripped me in fiendish haste, the raw southerly swelling and parting the curtains of the rented room. Now, when life begins to leave itself why is it this figment that clings? Such a light thing, and yet … Continue reading
Christmas is in the air. You are given into my hands out of quietest, loneliest lands. My trembling is all my prayer. “Five Days Old” – Francis Webb Given Poolside baby showers herald the summer pregnancies. Sweat caresses swollen knees; mothers tally labour hours; giftwrap is everywhere. Christmas is in the air. But by the … Continue reading
I prefer (wish list for autistic primary schooler) serious illness to surprises computers to my brother reading number plates to Christmas morning straight lines submerging my ears in a warm bath to waterslides deep fat fryers to matchbox cars torture to haircuts libraries to birthday parties standing ankle-deep in ocean tenpin bowling to climbing … Continue reading
I am a sundial In a sunken garden. On the days when you show your face I bask, all those long warm hours. You only see me when I glow, borrowing your radiance – but behind me, where you cannot see, circles a cold shadow blade. It gets longer the closer you are to leaving … Continue reading
Melinda Smith won the Prime Minister’s Literary Award for her fourth book of poems, Drag down to unlock or place an emergency call (Pitt St Poetry, 2013). Her work has been widely anthologised both inside and outside Australia and has been translated into Indonesian, Chinese, Burmese and Italian. She is based in the ACT and … Continue reading
Poem and Dish 