Tag: beauty
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She Carries the Ocean in Her Spine
She never saidwhat it cost to hold the world. Just straightened her backwhen it sagged,tightened the threadwhen it frayed,made dinnereven when her hands shook. Her spine—a tide chart.Each vertebramarked by wavesshe never let break. You wouldn’t know itto look at her—how many stormsshe swallowed. How many timesshe floodedand heldanyway. Some call it strength.But strength is…
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The Way They Run to Her
It’s not a question,just instinct.A scraped knee,a bad dream,the kind of achethey can’t name yet. They run to herlike rivers find the sea.Like they always knew the way. She doesn’t brace.Just opensarms, voice,that face that saysI’ve got you. There’s magic in it.Not the wand-waving kind,but the kind that knowswhich night light to leave on,how to…
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The Shape My Name Takes in Your Mouth
It’s differentwhen you say it. Softer,like it’s something you foundand didn’t want to break. No rush.You let it settleon your tongue,curl in the warmthbetween breath and meaning. Sometimesyou barely say it at all—just hum itinto my shoulder,or murmur itto the space betweensleep and waking. I’ve heard itshouted,slurred,scrawled on formsand barked in anger. But from you,it’s…
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Where the Sky Begins
I was born to dirt roadsand paddocks stitched with fence wire—a sky too big for pockets,and stars that never felt far. Kookaburras laughed me awake,and magpies taught mewhich trees were theirs.The gum trees never asked for praise,but earned it,standing through wind and fire. There’s grace in the dry of it—in creeks that vanish,then come back…
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The Reason the World Spins
I did not fall.I turned—slow as tide,sure as breath returningafter grief. You are not my light.You are the axis—the unseen pullthat keeps my feet to the earth,my voice steady,my hands open. Before you,I mistook motion for meaning.Now, I know the shape of stillness.I know what it isto be seenand not flinch. You ask nothing but…
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Whalesong
for the ones who sing into silence Somewhere below the shimmer linewhere light forgets itself,a whale turns slow in a cathedral of salt—each scar on her skina stanza. She sings,not to summon,not to find—but to remember. A song older than shipwrecks.Older than ropes and sails. The deep drinks it.Holds it like breath.Lets it echoalong trenches…
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Night Leaves the Latch Open
The sky forgets its thunder,clouds fold their arms—somewhere,a moth dreams of moonlight. Your breath slows.The world blurslike ink in rain. Stars peerthrough curtain cracks,gentle voyeursto a silenceall dreamers know. Let clocks keep timewithout you.Let the weight fallfrom your shoulders,like moonbeams. You’ve done enough. Close your eyes.The dark knows the way.It will carry you now,wherever you…
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Tearing Sunshine
Mum moves like rinse water—warm, grey,going where she’s poured.Hands red-rawfrom bleach and bonesshe can’t scrub clean.She hums when she’s bone-tired,not for tune,just to keep from cracking. Dad says work is hard—but only ever sits,rail grease on his boots,beer in hand,trophy beside him:Highest Goal Scorer,1983. He holds it like a woundthat never scabbed.Says he could’ve been…
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The Stack
Miss Carr was the strict one—hair wired tight,skirts to the shin,a voice of rulesand overdue fines. The library breathed her name.Quiet, please.Return on time.Hands to yourself. I once saw her shush the deputy principal,and he apologised. We said she slept in the archives,alphabetised her dreams,quietened ghosts for sport. She didn’t see me—tucked in Fiction,in the…
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Out Here, the Light Fails Slower
Above us, the wind leans into nothing.Below, fenceposts mark the long retreatof boundary lines no one remembers drawing. Somewhere beyond this paddock,a child flicks a torch on and off—signalling to no one,or to the stars. High overhead,a satellite drifts,blind but listening. Closer in,a man stacks firewoodby feel alone,his breath silverin the cold. He doesn’t look…
