Published in Overland Issue 245 Summer 2021 · Poetry Je te veux house Misbah Wolf The house stretched like a big turd that’s been freshly shitted from a gigantic brick beetle and was almost 9351 km from Tibet. You were really into Buddhism, so much so you ate dahl and planned to travel back to Tibet. One end of the house was where your mother lived, and you were at the other. You worked for Brisbane City Council and had just broken up with your girlfriend, her name was a ribbon-like body of water, but it may well have been Ravine. We swallowed the dust together from Mongolian riders, and the shape of your dick close-up made me think of these same riders trampled underfoot in a marble frieze. I travelled far back into the past, with the shaft of your dick in my mouth, a puppet master pivoting before your petite mort, adopting an expression of horror as our borrowed bodies laboured in our separate solitudes. In the night a ribbon-like body of water called you and I realised from the tone that there was now a ravine between us. I zipped myself up, as you lied to my face, 4am in the middle of Boondal where you told me it all ends. You had claimed so much land already with your adventuring that I felt devastated for Tibet even more so. I imagined a giant, but kind, dung beetle coming to roll me up. I thought about your colony of settlers, civilisations dying on the bedsheets, horsemen underfoot wanting a quick death, the pockets of Tibetan green obsidian visible in my mouth, and the Yarlung Zangbo river between my legs. Read the rest of Overland 245 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive Misbah Wolf Misbah Wolf is a Melbourne based poet. This new poetry forms part of her second fulllength collection of prose poems, Carapace, out through Vagabond Press. More by Misbah Wolf › 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.