Poetry

August 2022 – the day I moved in, I slept on the couch. This is the biggest place I’ve lived in on my own and

It’s foggy driving back from the forest in the sunshine coast. I love the feeling of open roads because cities are too claustrophobic to pull

The woman at the car rental tries to upsell me 3 times but I’m not falling for it. “Someone hit a kangaroo last week so

The day of her funeral I saw a white crow and I knew she had crossed over.When I didn’t buy the radishes i knew it

This body knows scars and wounds. This body is soft and hard when it needs to be. This body doesn’t carry generational pain, only one’s

Paramedics blare their sirens violently through the inner suburbs of the city, No one turns back to see what or who theyve missed out on