Published in Overland Issue 230 Autumn 2018 Uncategorized Liptrap Fiona Hile Sifting through shells I think of you— Green striped flange truncated at the stalk, singed partner variously allocated, the dusky hearing aid of secular distance enforced. Barrel leaf cloth fastidiously sewn emits apertures of admissions stored and later, distilled, through gestures confoundingly subtle. Is there material diffuse enough to feed your repertoire? You are everywhere. I am only in the hungry, lip catching south. The sun’s breath harvests modernist pinks and greys. You, the corn-rowed data of herringboned broth, a spiralling whirlwind of lust. Or this whale doll’s layette, bargain basement, discontinued. An unrecognisable mathematics reassembles. Volcanoes assemblaged stand still in place of you. Twenty-cents’ worth of quartz harbours discordant epiphanies of the last time we met. This froth of bleach, sea floral anti-freeze. Crumbs of floss. These are not my organs here on the beach. Not my liver beating, like a heart, beneath this rock. How your sand fly disappointment stings, punishments imperceptible and easy as poison. Still, I sit, and think, and think of you, elegantly innumerable. This cudgel of white bone, only two knuckles deep. Emptied of the pod of your embrace, lesions scorn. This face has a terminal array. That lip segues every Latin hook. If you could sing to lava these finite rocks, if night could carve fresh shapes from molten ash. If these excoriated shells could conjure your rough face to a schismed retreat, the world might forgive a jawbone knuckled to prism and reflect. Read the rest of Overland 230 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Fiona Hile Fiona HIle’s collection Novelties (Hunter Publishers, 2013) was awarded the Kenneth Slessor Prize for Poetry. Her most recent book, Subtraction (Vagabond Press, 2018) won the Helen Anne Bell Poetry Award. More by Fiona Hile 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 25 November 202225 November 2022 Poetry Poetry | Summer animal Jini Maxwell This summer I can feel myself turning back into an animal. I wake up early and seek out trees, walking through the expansive quiet of the park until the heat starts feeling sharp on my skin. I leave the blinds closed, so when I return home the building is dark and familiar, and as I shut the door behind me I feel a satisfaction I can only describe as territorial. First published in Overland Issue 228 24 November 202225 November 2022 Politics ‘Sir, please get me the Manager’: Brazil before and after Bolsonaro Guido Melo By then, although young in age, I already knew about those rituals of humiliation and how they were part of my Black family's lives. I also knew that surviving those daily interactions required putting my head down and following the instructions received with no hesitation. I must have had ‘the talk ‘with my parents when I was eight or nine. Life was just like that. Being Black in Brazil means living in a war. No one should ever go to war underprepared.