The smell of Jasmine
Through white fibro walls
Hiding Dad’s double brick Dreaming
Pedestal fans wearing dust cardigans
Click click click behind Mum’s door
Moaning aircons in lounge room windows
With frames painted shut
Drown out subwoofers
And fully sick burn outs
Two light brown kids
Sunscreen greased and
Melting on summer pavement
Public pool gobstoppers with
Wet paper bags and
Chlorine bleached hair
Cicada shell brooches
Nan’s voice kitchen-knife sharp
Through the warm syrup of the day:
Get down off the bloody tree
You’ll break your bloody arm
Chicken pocked skin
And oven mitt hands
Turn the dial on
Ancient brown box tellies
Spider web mesh of
Shrieking screen doors
Swing faster than Rottweilers down the road
When they haven’t been fed
Biting at your heels
Salting chubby cheeks
Those light brown kids with
Scab adorned knees
Painted with mercurochrome flowers
Stringing buttons on thread
Little fingers pricked with pins and
Mouths full of condensed milk
That’ll put proper fat on ya bones
Nan’s voice butterfly hushed
Through the brittle chill of the morning:
Don’t tell ya bloody mum
She’ll ring my bloody neck
Read the rest of Overland 242
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