Published in Overland Issue 243 Winter 2021 · Poetry Backseat driving Sam Morley on the carpet at the rear of the family car juddering engine our throats to the night sky with mum green in the face from the dash light long roads thrum bodies still heads flung in stone whiplash the skirts of trees sway left then right nothing lurid in the arbour the bulk of our skulls tom-peeping at cauliflower blooms of eucalypt swelling and trailing leaf calligraphy stars clicked on and wincing at how trees flare like a hall being passed through Read the rest of Overland 243 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Sam Morley Sam Morley is an emerging poet living in Melbourne. His work has been published by Cordite Poetry Review, Red Room Poetry, Hunter Writer’s Centre and shortlisted in the ACU Poetry Prize 2020. More by Sam Morley › 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.