Judith Wright Poetry Prize 2021 Third Place, stones


he asks to see each pill I take, a catalogue
blue|green and yellow|pink|tangerine
each one a promise, a spell: make my mother well

we lie on my bed and watch the birds, eyes leaf-green
somewhere between autumn and spring
I can’t move he cries I cry when he asks mama, did I break you?

I hang stones from my neck, he weighs them in his palm
whispers selenite feldspar quartz,
mineral compensation for an empty womb

my disappointment soothing as worn prayer beads
it’s his I kneel before, water daily;
the whetstone on which I sharpen my pain

now there’s nothing left to believe
just the scrat scrat of a wattlebird in the tree
sky the colour of my favourite old jeans—

I used to think that the world owed me.

 

 

This prize is made possible with the support of the Malcolm Robertson Foundation

 

Read the rest of Overland 246

If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue

Or subscribe and receive
four brilliant issues for a year

Lily Rupcic

Lily Rupcic is a creative writer who lives with chronic pain and disability on Peramangk land. She is passionate about poetry as a vessel for unravelling and becoming; writing is her bridge between intensely isolating, personal experiences and the outside world, an opening through which the invisible can be seen. She is a runner-up in the 2021 Overland Judith Wright Poetry Prize.

More by Lily Rupcic ›

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