silk nest hull

crisp plaits

a deck



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.



why do you continue to baste yourself?


Murmurs from the crowd: the promise of rejuvenation.



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