Published in Overland Issue 242 Autumn 2021 Poetry / Judith Wright Poetry Prize Bidjigal double brick dreaming Brooke Scobie 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 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Brooke Scobie Brooke Scobie is a queer Goorie woman, single mum, emerging writer, and community worker. She was born and bred on Bidjigal country in south west Sydney and now lives on Darkinjung land. Brooke is most passionate about telling stories that centre on identity, love and family using the imagery of country. More by Brooke Scobie 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 16 December 202225 January 2023 Friday Poetry Poetry | Wombats shit candy Michael Farrell To avoid treading on a snake, I stepped on a land mine. Did this really happen, in my dream? No. Is it a fiction, then? Yes and no. The time I spend looking for socks is insignificant: lie, irony, or philosophy? Wombats shit candy. Joke – hallucination? This is in fact a truth claim. My poems: litanies of truth claims. 1 First published in Overland Issue 228 14 December 202225 January 2023 Reviews The moral risk of taking things too seriously: on Gareth Morgan’s When A Punk Becomes A Spunk Elese Dowden In his review of Lucy Van’s The Open, Gareth Morgan writes that Van writes 'against the impulse to ponder dutifully about the sins of the past and present.' This fucked me up for some time. What is it to ponder dutifully? But perhaps more importantly, how do we ponder in a way that's more … metal?