Published in Overland Issue 248 Spring 2022 · Poetry Poetry | Call in sick Gareth Morgan call in sick, 6:06 … a long cold walk in the dark body tense like the animal spirits the hand’s invisible twerk wrenching at all of it power lines and lit-up cranes liven the dock i feel old as filth. images stack up sheen gulls larrikin the dawning carpark letterboxes on the waterfront put my foot in it woosh goes the water, up curr the gulls’ errata linfox, dank palms, i feel like a minicooper deranged and orange, shiny in morning meat pie dinner with peas, gravy and mash sunrise slow like a forklift, then yellow on that hill but later maybe try cycling yeah get a mission get a journey he used to jog from preston to work in the city mon–fri this morning i saw ducks, ducklings while you all were out PB’ing found a lack of citrus amongst the new builds i too felt decorative, perforable ‘decorating each alienation’ saw a little distressed weatherboard and scrapey grey walls. thin, allergic to the world. a good stupid wall cheap and lonely and effective oh yeah but yes. tired, 7:07 climbing undistressed steps, sluggish going up a myna’s safety yellow beak and feet on the nature strip rosellas on the power line kissing, sharing breakfast i buy coffee and am knocked out solemn backyard wreckage Gareth Morgan Gareth Morgan is a poet and co-director of Sick Leave. His chapbook ‘Dear Eileen,’ was published by Puncher and Wattman as part of the Slow Loris series. More by Gareth Morgan › 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.