Published in Overland Issue 245 Summer 2021 · Poetry Sapiens James Kelly Quigly Much of it was impasse— we were hefty, unglamorous, carried ourselves with grace and humility to the boucherie, ached in our bluesiness, modelled self-discipline when convenient, elected botulinum but refused the triple bypass, squinted toward Sol to salute our slain in their endless pre-dawn processions. We sat in separate dim rooms and remembered shaping adobe into brown bricks; breast milk; being doused in gasoline. We kept track of each other’s amputations and yellowcake uranium, watched our birdfeeders wither, our seatbelts hold firm, our iron lungs vamp on a theme. We bade farewell to the mosaics, flipbooks, stained glass windows, printer paper magazines, notes in erasable pen scrawled on slick palms, broadsides, galley proofs, murals, graffiti, caricatures, charcoal impressions, canoes dug out of fallen cedars, five-dollar erotica, psychedelic projections, abstract expressionist dripwork, latex moulds of dragonfruit and pomegranate, papier-mâché casts of neckline and scapula and armpit, sand mandalas, nocturnes, leitmotifs, grands jetés, soliloquies, smash cuts, and dissolves. It was either worship or waiting; waiting or winnowing; we knew and did not know. Read the rest of Overland 245 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive James Kelly Quigly James Kelly Quigley is the winner of the Phyllis Smart-Young Prize in Poetry. He is also a Pushcart Prize and two-time Best New Poets nominee. His manuscript Aloneness was a finalist for the 2022 Brittingham and Felix Pollak Prizes in Poetry. He lives in Brooklyn, New York. More by James Kelly Quigly › 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.