Published in Overland Issue 244 Spring 2021 · Poetry Marshmallow flowers Mitchell Welch This morning the veil the morning threw the yawning dark was pale-flower white and had my eyeballs in its breakfast milk. Scrawled in chalk the morning walked its affidavit back and forth across my grave. No ordinary morning the morning this morning; the morning the morning was was wet and stunk of trodden flowers. White screens overtowered our gabled house this morning to contain the vacant hours our remnant selves remained remaining in. Of all mornings this morning stands alone on its platform, hands on its head. Undead, undead, undead. Read the rest of Overland 244 If you enjoyed this piece, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Mitchell Welch Mitchell Welch is a writer and editor from Brisbane. He currently lives in Melbourne where he works as the communications manager for a cemetery trust. More by Mitchell Welch › 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.
