Published in Overland Issue 241 Summer 2020 · Poetry the rose Monique Lyle He held up her portrait, close, noticing things about flesh, then looked away at the mountains and through the green window. Then he looked, a third time, into his mind. He saw that the willow was drowning and that blue flowers floated around the place. She’d been crying over the dead bird and the frame of the portrait now showed green. The cage was rusted and green. Her dress had fallen from her shoulder (it was a waste to break the other half of the mirror) and with her face forlorn he wanted to go up. He thought he’d put his cheek on her naked shoulder but was pricked by thorns. He leaned in. The flowers were blue budgies floating and softly alighting. There was flutter and splash, splash and flutter. The air had feathers and petals in it. The air was crimson and down. He saw her close the window and drag the frame through the soot on the floor. The rose was dark and he knew that it was dying. Read the rest of Overland 241 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Monique Lyle Monique Lyle is a writer and improviser. She is currently completing a PhD with the Writing and Research Centre at Western Sydney University. Recently her work has appeared in Overland, Cordite, Flash Cove, Otoliths and Mascara Literary Review. More by Monique Lyle › 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.
