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 March 20233 March 2023 Poetry Poetry | 2 rat poems by joanne burns joanne burns the courtyard rat squatting on an empire of pizza boxes rainsoaked piles of stewing cardboard flattened packaging from long covid's eager merchandise anything to transcend an unimagined plague rat traps line the walls like doctors' obsolete portmanteaux from a much earlier decade First published in Overland Issue 228 10 February 202322 February 2023 Poetry Poetry | Inflorescence Jo Langdon History or myth—picture tulip bulbs, unburied like onions. An onion is the likeness Hepburn—in Gardens of the world—proffers in the purr & lilt of vowel, halt of consonant; annunciation that lifts ready from memory
