I am a chick
You don’t call it lit
But I read it.
I am the protagonist
The girl who loses part of herself ...
‘busking on the bridge at Footscray Station’ by Peter Davis
The wind rhymes with the sound of their pants
brushing against their legs. The music must shift
to a higher register, whenever the diesel trains roar. ...
‘the house of water’ by Alana Kelsall
I crumple the sea in my dreams wake
to the shallow pool of my head
I should go North lose weight catch up
with the other divers hear words slip jelly-like ...
