Published in Overland Issue 247 Winter 2022 Poetry Poetry | log joanne burns dream’s letterhead lies exhausted in the recycling bin someone is so awake to the moment the black opulence of the room at 4am a hello new day screen lights up bulletins of hydrated news beyond the equator to the hinterlands the call for an ambulance: pinch and panic breath hangs like fake asanas as the dawn filters through pull the zip on that pocket cathedral a numerology of banks stands guard a chai t-bag dangles in its water a pendulum of angst that moment of a final moment a rolling stone so kitsch it rhymes with home the moment when prognosis slides towards you along the gleaming river of linoleum adjacent to the vending machine and the donated monet apparitions on the wall your coin is rejected in the darkness of the slot you still crave that salty snack joanne burns joanne burns is a Sydney poet. She is currently assembling a new manuscript of recent works: rummage. More by joanne burns 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 3 March 20233 March 2023 Poetry Poetry | 2 rat poems by joanne burns joanne burns the courtyard rat squatting on an empire of pizza boxes rainsoaked piles of stewing cardboard flattened packaging from long covid's eager merchandise anything to transcend an unimagined plague rat traps line the walls like doctors' obsolete portmanteaux from a much earlier decade First published in Overland Issue 228 10 February 202322 February 2023 Poetry Poetry | Inflorescence Jo Langdon 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
