Published in Overland Issue 228 Spring 2017 · Uncategorized Trial Elena Gomez silk nest hull crisp plaits a deck cuffs in flanks The magistrate speaks with circle-shaped lips. The witch remains silent but licking her palm and smoothing the left parting on her hair. The first witness: we could smell the lavender and soon the pigs emerged from the barn and could not look around them. the animals were running very fast in many directions. The witch refuses her name of earthly possession. Magistrate: why do you continue to baste yourself? Murmurs from the crowd: the promise of rejuvenation. Witch: my speech is not ready for you. Read the rest of Overland 228 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Elena Gomez Elena Gomez is a poet and book editor living in Melbourne. She is the author of Body of Work (Cordite) and a number of chapbooks. More by Elena Gomez 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 1 June 20231 June 2023 · Politics Turning peaceful protesters into criminals—again Evan Smith So the Summary Offences (Obstruction of Public Places) Bill 2023 has been passed by South Australia’s Legislative Assembly and will become law. Fifteen hours of debate in the upper house, led by the Greens and SA Best, could not overturn the bill that was reportedly rushed through the lower house in just twenty-two minutes a fortnight ago. First published in Overland Issue 228 31 May 202331 May 2023 · Film In Memoriam: Kenneth Anger’s cinematic incantations Eloise Ross ‘Making a movie is casting a spell,’ said Kenneth Anger about his lifelong profession, his unique and spectacular talent, his very own dark magic. That certainly describes how I was lured into his realm. There was a time in my life where I would watch Anger’s seven-minute film Rabbit’s Moon basically on repeat, infatuated by its blue-tinted images of a sprightly harlequin dancing around a clearing and calling silently to the moon. It was poetry.
