Poetry

..:: SiO2 ::..

1.

Carried overseas

between creases of the fitted sheet

comforting.

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,

waterfalls

water fell

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

                        nausea.

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

whispered memories

                        it hurt to listen.

One year in an hourglass –

a maelstrom, in time

resurged the waterfall

until

                        if at all possible

dry.

2.

A collection of grainy images

over which a magic carpet could glide.

Retracing oceans

with a familiar voice of the genie –

he had not yet come to

                        (or would he ever)

be eroded.

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

was led.

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.

Jazmine Kelly