Published in Overland Issue Poetry in Lockdown · Poetry The well Neika Lehman just try and stop a mind rolling back from cooked fish and a clear horizon—fervor’s up along the pier, just quick food and all these bodies blow on hot bones in bitter wind urban dykes befriend their scraps naming loudly as they go: a rib in ‘Sheer Ivory’ a rib in ‘Sudden Spike’ debased fish spirit’s cosmetic insignia city sky tonight bones fling out to silted Narrm to silver Port Phillip Bay unceremonious my dykes feed translucent crabs they breed madly now it is May Old Country discourse is further adrift the Bass Strait well harks back— muka nipakawa a well of ocean waves and bones not yet with grave oh, my island and its silent rejections my island and its returns like the great white that follows a too hot seal I am “going out and coming back” all nipakawa to the island are generative not fully formed each view framed by muka’s seeing shore: a healthy snake made of mist a mountain at the sea a shell that waits in needled grass here they are living the classics I recall weeks of bed depression hiding under blankets reading the debates: whole PhDs written by Brits on whether we ate fish! so well studied and so well told it takes art and isolation to stay here I feel bad for my partner with no utopia there is just nostalgia but there is always some fish leftover it is always on my behalf Read the rest of Poetry in Lockdown, edited by Toby Fitch and Melody Paloma If you enjoyed this special edition, subscribe and receive a year’s worth of print issues, the online magazine, special editions and discounted entry to our literary competitions Neika Lehman Neika Lehman is a Trawlwoolway writer and artist living in Narrm since 2014. More by Neika Lehman 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 15 May 202326 May 2023 · Poetry Poetry | Two poems by Ouyang Yu Ouyang Yu You have to do it badly. If it is poetry, even more so, because there is no because. If you write like you were the best in the world, you are the worst because you pretend too hard. Too harsh, too. Why do you want to be the best? Is that because you are a lack or there is a lack in you that you feel like filling up all the time? Even when you are named the best, does that mean anything? 1 First published in Overland Issue 228 21 April 20232 May 2023 · Poetry Poetry can already be free Ender Başkan There’s a regime of logic that we can call Australia, that we can say on many fronts is also a fiction. Any poem that meets Australia within its logic, taking it at face value, will be boring and it might be competent. If you use an AI app, it will definitely be competent AND boring materially, but conceptually it’ll be amazing, in that it met evil (management speak/the invisible hand/terra nullius) with cunning, with another kind evil—amoral, not immoral.