Published 10 February 202322 February 2023 · Poetry / Friday Poetry Poetry | Inflorescence Jo Langdon ‘So work, work, and more work’ —Wisława Szymborska History or myth—picture tulip bulbs, unburied like onions. An onion is the likeness Hepburn —in Gardens of the world— proffers in the purr & lilt of vowel, halt of consonant; annunciation that lifts ready from memory the mises-en-scène of gulped marbles—Eliza D’s triumph in rise & soar of voice, ‘I can do / without you—’ ‘Don’t speak; don’t waste my time / show me!’ An onion too is what the PM of then opens his jaw onto, mouth into brown paper skin & wet flesh: lunar glow & crunch of white, translucent in allusions to green—& this seems wasteless, at least: the peel intact & taken in. The onion hasn’t a centre to reach, stone core to touch with any tooth / knife / nail— I didn’t know, before the poems’ work, how Audrey’s voice for Eliza was dubbed, sometimes doubled; the ghost singer credited barely if at all. How from this a whole ghost chorus lifts in each point of silence & of speaking over— / Where thought holds some enjambment, wanting as desire or lack— / The poem won’t work towards cohesion, skirts by verb each point of focus. Only this resolve of wanting, present in each sense—this stretch of here & gift that reaches for & out-wards, on— Jo Langdon Jo Langdon writes fiction and poetry. She is the author of two poetry collections, Snowline (Whitmore Press, 2012) and Glass Life (Five Islands Press, 2018), and her recent fiction appears in journals including Griffith Review and Westerly. Jo lives on unceded Wadawarrung land in Geelong/Djillong. More by Jo Langdon › 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 24 November 202324 November 2023 · Friday Poetry Poem with vertical viewfinder Shari Kocher If in future an image of mine— of course, I have made the if-ness of your looking a multiple Ferris wheel turned to trolley car trundling down the street. Damn, I will show you something all right here, inside the daily or what you call private. First published in Overland Issue 228 3 November 20233 November 2023 · Poetry our neighbours poem Ender Başkan our neighbours face appears above the fence – hello. our neighbours have a chat with us. our neighbours learn our names. our neighbours become our friends. our neighbours landlord thinks the market is ripe. our neighbours are told to leave. our neighbours try to buy their house at an exorbitant price to keep their kids in the school zone. our neighbours are denied.