Water on Water

By | 1 February 2017

The music of the water as it coves. We covert each other. Rings from the aquarium gift shop that change colours. Cover of sunlight does not show what happens after dark when the neighbours stone the penguins to death on the beach, leave them with coffee cups over their heads to drown. She wears my hoodie over her eyes as she lays on my lap on the rocks above the water, and says we have been both under and over and beside, today, and maybe she is suggesting we will also be in the water, when we return to the city. That pool by the harbour, the drama of water on water. It is not loud if it is dying. If we have brought a species to extinction let it flood and fill our minds with sound. There is always the anxiety of airports and trains where hands slip, where unnecessary promises are made, where the views we shared just go, just leave us until we can pick them up again. This time of year the trees keep giving us things, wattles, hibiscus flowers, banksia seed pods. I am loved.


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