Published in Overland Issue 233 Summer 2018 · Uncategorized Learning Allison Gallagher the way sovereign bodies grow into one another enclaves coalescing to form new imperfect states when we are produced together it becomes impossible to tell the difference between good bodies and bad bodies there are just beautiful things to blossom inside broken ribcages there is just the way birthmarks of trauma dissolve when my love holds pieces of myself that have only ever seen what violence looks like i think about what the body inherits my grandfather’s wounds become my father’s wounds become mine passed down like a jawline & only ever spoken about through silence there is so much viciousness in only knowing these things through absence slowly i am learning that no one heals in solitude we cut out the ugliest parts of each other in quiet queer rituals on shared double mattresses i am learning to live inside a broken thing when i call this body a wreckage in the middle of the night you ask me not to speak about your home that way Image: Open arms / flickr Read the rest of Overland 233 If you enjoyed this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four outstanding issues for a year Allison Gallagher Allison Gallagher is a writer from Sydney. Their debut chapbook is Parenthetical Bodies (Subbed In, 2017). Writing has appeared in Overland, Potluck, Scum Mag and Kill Your Darlings, among others. They also sing and play bass in the band Sports Bra. More by Allison Gallagher › 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 1 6 November 2026 · Friday Fiction Headland Harry Goddard He must have still been sore. I could tell from the winces he made as he scooted down the trail. Some unspoken agreement of not hitting other people’s children — and the circumstances of me not being that type of kid — spared me from the same punishment. I was taken to my parents who agreed I would have to work off the damages, and I must have mowed the lawn once, or cleaned the family car. 4 November 2026 · Film MIFF, Minotaur and the politics of maternal reception Alicia Byrnes Maternal labour is, in the terms I’ve set out here, not labour at all. Noisy, unfocused, mobile, perhaps even sleepy — it is an affront to arthouse film viewing and therefore unserious.