Published in Overland Issue 213 Summer 2013 Uncategorized Toast Larry Buttrose The smell of toast reminds me of my father, Not only because he was cremated. He made it every morning, In strips three to a slice of bread, Golden soaked with butter as a happy death. My mother was the smell of wet wool, flooring wax Down a gruel-dim hall, nail polish remover and hairspray, The Roman triumph of a Sunday roast on a tray, And over them both, the maudlin miasma of tobacco. It is said that oxygen is odourless But surely only to our human noses As we sniff our way from post to post, Ashes to ashes, toast to toast. Larry Buttrose Larry Buttrose is the author of seventeen books, including two novels and four volumes of poetry. He is also artistic director of the Katoomba Theatre Company in the Blue Mountains. More by Larry Buttrose 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 6 February 20236 February 2023 Aboriginal Australia Winaga-li Gunimaa Gali: listen, hear, think, understand from our sacred Mother Earth and our Water Winaga-li Gunimaa Gali Collective To winaga-li, Gomeroi/Kamilaroi people must be able to access Gunimaa. They must be able to connect and re-connect. Over 160 years of colonisation has privileged intensive agriculture, grazing and heavily extractive water management regimes, enabled by imposed property regimes and governance systems. Gunimaa and Gali still experience the violent repercussions of these processes, including current climate changes which are exacerbating impacts, as droughts become longer, floods and heat extremes become more intense, and climatic zones shift, impacting on species’ viability and biodiversity. 2 First published in Overland Issue 228 3 February 20233 February 2023 Fiction Fiction | Romeo and Juliet II: Haunted rentals Georgia Symons The hauntings are actually quite flamboyant here, though. Yeah, come in, come in. Not like my friend Moya’s house—it just has a tool shed that sometimes isn’t there and that’s it. So boring. Yes, you can keep your shoes on.
