The venetians creak – fog’s tonnage.
Condensation gasps
	on glassy corners, gloomy Xmas
   dec. The butter’s thickened in its crock like
dripping. A constellation of barbed starfish rises
from the mug of tea toward the ceiling
   shooting watery cannonballs intermittently
as Hippolytus de Marsiliis’ fingers. The iMac, too,
   is punctuated, each poorly catalogued knuckle
like an Apostle by my salt. Only I, oddly overlooked, am hardhearted to this seasonal affective disorder.

Stuart Barnes’ poetry has been exhibited, anthologised and published in journals, newspapers and online. He’s currently editing two chapbooks, and writing his first novel. He lives in Melbourne.
© Stuart Barnes
Overland 205-summer 2011, p. 75

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Stuart Barnes is the author of Glasshouses (UQP 2016), which won the Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize, was commended for the Anne Elder Award and shortlisted for the Mary Gilmore Award. He is outgoing poetry editor of Tincture Journal.

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