in this binary library

a murder of fictions

crows gather in corners

it is work to witness

question marks      polished apples

witnessed by medication
one side limp

I called an ambulance

this memory smells nutty

the first line I trusted 
hot under a tree in the outback

a bag of lychees

declarations of love      are not 
front teeth crack the husk

translucence of trace
the bee on my chest witnesses the space between beats

I dusted my brother’s body

the dandelions nod affirmation

the butterfly heavy with the want does not land
the day I went to get results

my notebook opened an incision

lay lined

an inky river 
the little boy runs into

my failure of ground

there is a beach where the two rivers meet

the Jamieson the Goulburn 
not remembering  protected them from the birds and their crimes
a woman on a horse tells us one river is warmer one faster
standing in water two arms end in a heart
their crimes fell like coins out of holes in the lining

yellow leaves are boats moving as fast as the colluding current
I have to stay till arrival happens

medicated into the seams

two elbows on the table

the wood smells like old books

my notebook spread fightless
a muddy pond of tea cools in my hands

sitting in the wind of hospital corridors
cockatoos rip apart the morning

the river swallows the fall

my mother raised her arms in prayer to the clothes line
blood flows from the left atrium to the right

the flies land on my denial

the privacy of  grief
she took her two hands off her walker

onto my shoulders

pegged me with prayer
the two rivers don’t meet

the Jamieson ends in the Goulburn