Published in Overland Issue 239 Winter 2020 · Poetry two monitors Zoe Kingsley i two monitors the cop & neighbour in your head duplicity in systems the sprinkler is wetting everything ii you’re a texan now ownership, sitting on the horse rock hudson stroking the fringe the pink & blue blankets the rabbits hanging from the belt buckle iii sorry we missed you august orange stickiness on the kitchen table soup splatter on the floors & black mould in the grout, its beige breakfast beige weetbix beige tea iv corn jack catherine keener grey sky & splattered seagull on the road zombie customers v a lost year is good to have Read the rest of Overland 239 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Zoe Kingsley Zoe Kingsley is a writer based in Narrm/Melbourne. Her poetry and essays can be read in publications such as Cordite Poetry Review, Rabbit, The Happy Hypocrite and Textual Practice. She is deputy editor (poetry) at The Suburban Review. More by Zoe Kingsley › 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 3 November 20233 November 2023 · Poetry our neighbours poem Ender Başkan our neighbours face appears above the fence – hello. our neighbours have a chat with us. our neighbours learn our names. our neighbours become our friends. our neighbours landlord thinks the market is ripe. our neighbours are told to leave. our neighbours try to buy their house at an exorbitant price to keep their kids in the school zone. our neighbours are denied. First published in Overland Issue 228 25 October 202325 October 2023 · Poetry The inhabitants Elif Sezen I died today, among many others, my grandpa died too, and our neighbours, / my best friend, the one with braided hair yes, and our sweet sweet doctors, / our motherly nurses... We heard a blast, then a whoosh of some kind, / and all gone.
