Published in Overland Issue 244 Spring 2021 · Poetry Pointless, in space Belinda Rule Is there anything more fucked than a poem, when all Croajingalong has burnt, inkblot on the map of child heart, that great black banksia we feared as wicked, a thousand-socket resin candelabra, the dune plovers who swooped us year upon year, limp tumble-dried mops, shrunk-skin goannas just the sack of that skin now, soot-hazed. Ten days the line of fire on the government map sits two pixels from Cann River, the old pub where the timber men glare if you come in the front bar, bumper stickers ‘Fertilise the bush: bulldoze a greenie’, it is the right of any man to be an idiot and yet not burn alive or else what’s my excuse, dry sandwiches bitter coffee in the café, no salt on the chips at the servo, god I don’t believe in save them, my feelings booming pointless in space please save them. Read the rest of Overland 244 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Belinda Rule Belinda Rule is Melbourne writer of poetry and fiction. Her poetry chapbook, The Things the Mind Sees Happen, Puncher & Wattmann/Slow Loris, was commended in the Anne Elder Award 2019. Her first full-length poetry collection, Hyperbole, is forthcoming with Recent Works Press in 2021. More by Belinda Rule › 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.