Published in Overland Issue 221 Summer 2015 · Uncategorized Magnetic Poetry Kit – mostly found Deb Westbury for Luke, 1981–1997 Never cook a tiny goddess or have less love. That summer we’d already lived with the smell for a long time before we knew where it came from or what it was. we pound petal boy leaving language and rocking you and raw puppy urges it has crushed you Inside the stove’s sheetmetal box, we found a small mummified mouse still hanging to the wiring by it’s fingernails. white light music gorgeous bed me diamond By then you’d gone. I took a photo of the room and everything in it, opened all the windows and drove away fast. through the dream shot a car mother likes the wind Deb Westbury Deb Westbury has developed a dual career as a writer and teacher. Deb resides in Katoomba and is actively involved with Varuna, The Writers’ House. Her poetry collections are: Mouth to Mouth (1990), Our Houses are Full of Smoke (1994), Surface Tension (1998), Flying Blind (2002), and The View From Here (2008). More by Deb Westbury › 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 17 March 202517 March 2025 · Reviews A new wartime economy: Ulrike Herrmann’s The End of Capitalism Ben Brooker The End of Capitalism is an important counterpoint to the technocentrist’s dream of an unbridled capitalism powered by the sun and the wind — not to mention an argosy of unproven green tech — rather than the remains of prehistoric plants and animals. 7 March 20257 March 2025 · Poetry 3 songs for Charles Darwin John Forbes begins with languor, / the past tense of caress / which, besides flies & heat haze / post stress, / the intense air supplies — no ostrich feather fans / or punkahs needed — just to be at rest.
