between creases of the fitted sheet
Crawled into the doona, asleep amongst it
and in the pillowcase.
No burglar could take it away.
As a bag emptied
out flowed a torrent,
now sediment forever embedded
into the carpet of a new room.
Choosing not to hoover,
a denial of the fall,
it was more pleasant than an aroma
In each shower left longing
for the exfoliating feel
and the bittersweet saline
which drips over eyelids and between lips.
Engraved onto a skin in coastal images
nobody would want
to laser it.
• Stuck – in my ears
it hurt to listen.
One year in an hourglass –
a maelstrom, in time
resurged the waterfall
if at all possible
A collection of grainy images
over which a magic carpet could glide.
with a familiar voice of the genie –
he had not yet come to
(or would he ever)
But stuck sinking, into an ever-grounding sludge.
Eating, swallowing handfuls of dry earth,
summoning an ineluctable suffocation
of a stubborn surplus.
In a rip which dragged out a battle against current
Over the Andaman Sea it was laid to rest.
When feet went from walking barefoot to waterproofed
what flowed like a waterfall
accepted a coagulation.
Decorating a home, colourful crystals
in jam jars and spread over a desk
which prompted a reminiscent curl of the lips.