Published 21 October 202230 October 2022 · Poetry / Friday Poetry Poetry | Class act Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn When iso’s over I’m buying a coleslaw handfuls of nectarines, vanilla pudding to keep the lockdown woes at bay, I’m kinda worried not rly because I’ve got the spicy cough you know, I’m young – no underlying conditions but my brother has spent the past week in emergency iatrogenic—antipsychotic blips and static when our dad did that too many times they told him eventually to fuck off and he did for good The ambulance schedules haven’t gotten much better since then nursing red-eye on rotation overworked underpaid care workers, single digit sleep cycles I watch my phone fill up with outrage pre-programmed algorithms performative justice No1 can decide who we pile onto next it’s the little things they’ll get you for on Twitter ‘her boobs titted around breastily’ @TheSmollestCat I wish my door closed properly from the men who came to pay a visit to my grandmother, well she’s 83 can’t move without a walker but no one cares much when she screams in the night except my upstairs neighbour who rings me in social housing people invite you for coffee food drops, sometimes for other things too I’m kinda worried for my mum she’s been kicked out of houso for punching her neighbour’s window in when the guy next door he’s yelling there’s a woman at this place who kinda reminds me of her methadone gleam in her eyes, ex nurse wonder tits flyaway hair she keyed someone’s car and she cut nan’s umbrella tree muscling the gutters but she has these frozen blue eyes like opal jewels wrested from brown dirt when I’m walking down the street her eyes freeze on me her mouth curves, childish lips, the ones that called the cops but I just smile coz I’m chicken shit white you never know it just might save my arse, the scraggly hibiscus in the garden. I might just get lucky It’s the little things / secret daydreams (She comes in, I say Cheryl, choke me out and she sits on my face) In reality I’m swiping right thinking it’s left I’ve got my face on tinder help it’s the same refrain: Hello hello hello hello hello hello how are you? Gotta keep it close and personal for social media they’ll never give me a book deal – all I’ve got are editors with avos yes AVOs not avocados million dollar inheritances working class heroes all. It’s a class act baby! Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss ‘when I got this award I was living in a housing commission area’ babe why didn’t you come say hello? We’re your neighbours, we don’t bite (hard) but what do I expect from feminism what good old J Gil did on the same day she told Abbott to fuck off was the day she cut the single parent benefit my mother’s still living in a tent I guess it’s all a sham sham wow LIFE ads make life more enticing I guess I should’ve been more grateful for the opportunity geriatric television screens play tinnitus on standby sticky mopheads buzz like flytraps, scented candles, Ajax spray and wipe rinse away the dust and wrinkles blips and static Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn is a writer living in Tasmania. Her recent work has appeared in The Age, Meanjin and Island magazine. She is the previous editor of Voiceworks. More by Zowie Douglas-Kinghorn › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays First published in Overland Issue 228 8 March 20248 March 2024 · Poetry POETRY Gareth Morgan as if a poem were a person, me, i get up in the morning / i buy coffee in a can, and wait / you have to keep calm, “don't get upset” / or it fucks everything up. the bosses who tell me this / are wise but stupid troopers. this is a political poem First published in Overland Issue 228 16 February 202419 February 2024 · Poetry Two poems from 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem Nam Le But think about the children, super cute children, mute children, with uncommonly big eyes, children with hard eyes, eyes that have seen what no child’s eyes should see, children naked as the day wearing big smiles and no smiles, preternaturally wise, with mooned-out tummies and cleft palates and cataracts, deformities and birth defects ...