birdtrack
skythreat
heartcrack
the wave swirls upwards
to greet me
I swear it knows
what i need
wish it would tell me
out loud
waterwords
are hard to read
Photo: Claire Doble
Waterwords
poems
High hopes
I wake to the taste of
stop n grow
bitter, sweet
with nostalgia
heavy, hot air
laden with Christmas tree
and the dreamsnorts swirl
make me
old, young, like
a glitch between
childhood and progeny
the way your eyes light
when you play a song
beered-up footy men
get teared-up to
singing along
my heart
catches
like a fingernail
in tulle
because I know
what’s inside
you
a betraying all-too-human
love
I guess,
the cynics
would sneer
but you’re 10 and it’s clear
I don’t know
how to explain
like a mirror I see
how you ache to be
understood,
to rise high
above
and be great
in a way
that will
never quite
be attained
in your mind
I just hope
one day you know
I believe
you are
in
every grain of sand
on the beach
Listen to it on Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/clairevetica/high-hopes?si=37a6a28f20e24210bc49cee8b7ddcb9b&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing
Photo: Claire Doble
Stretch marks
Stretch marks on the ocean
silvery, tired
trying to remember I’m vast
sparkling, a
mother
fucker
more than, enough
can’t be contained, tamed
in a single glass
wine? whiskey? why?
I yearn somedays,
mostly Sundays
afternoons
for self-absorbed
oblivion
a sweat-beaded bottle might provide
those sweet lies
politician in a suit
sneakers and no tie
Modern. Woman.
leaning in
hi!
time to change
time’s are changing
it’s like
holding on to a boyfriend cause
he looks good from behind
only realise
that metaphor
means
he’s long gone
in my mind
can’t win
with an exit-man
start again
if you can
find enough
water in the ocean
to stretch across
exhaustion
make a new thing
never stop
aching
Photo: Claire Doble
broken glass
more picnics mean
more broken glass
it’s not me
or any of my
friends
we wouldn’t do that
who would
stare out to sea
and ask
if the rusty anchor’s still wedged
on the island
where waves attack
shipwreck litter
you’d be stuck
with a fine these days
for that
and I heard the sailors were
all unvaccinated
in 1870
selfish pricks, I wonder
was their captain schooled
by Opus Dei?
someone who
eats roast koala
for tea
picks his teeth
with the constitution
casts icy eyes over
the cash flow of
stamp duty to
developer, it’s only the poor
who choose to buy
on flood plains
my Hilux explains
I’m OK
burning finest quality
trees in aspic
4.2 litre diesel
smash the plastic
P plates
in the car park
by the boat ramp
someone will
tidy up
for you
black water laps
against the morning shore
faint tang of petrol
in the air
it’s safe for kids
so clean
because
our land is
rich and free
Photo: Claire Doble
Winterise
frigidaire air
cold on bottle-green arms
inhale exhale, snuffle-gulp
chill shots, no covid
don’t touch
turquoise face
stretch
alabaster calves
yellowhite, marbled
tight, neat, chocked, clocked
surprised but not shocked
ready to run
here it comes
breath like a vape
grey morning takes
extra
moments
to
arrive
pinkorange imperial glory
of clouds over
water as
ghosts glide
majestic
winter sunrise
Photo: Claire Doble
Skytumble
skytumble
and the breeze
tosses me
around
batters my
spiked edges
smooths
the turmoil
of the soul
I watch the
lines of cloud
chased to the corners
of blue
funnelled towards
a far edge, reaching
white, high and fleeting
and below
and beyond
waves rise
out at sea
alarmingly like
the dream
I had
last night
of a tsunami
greygreen
they’ll reach my windows
engulf the house
tight-sealed but
ominous
a trickle
down the wall
all-engulfing
enthrals
colours in a
tropical storm
aquamarine
slides sideways
more like
quiet horror
than fright
Photo: Claire Doble
Darksparkle
Dive deep, dark sparkle
serrated frilled
never fulfilled
that feeling
escapes
when I
tin-can my mind
cut-through is zero
once again
waiting
in the wings
afraid to fall
or execute
a lame pirouette
gavotte, garotte
ambition on the cross
of hope
frowned brow
while others float
like eagles so
easy
if I could just gather those
gossamer strings
add kohl to rims
electro-beat heart
ever elusive
a fat black moth
rectangular, irregular
air-float of a burnt thing
swooping black kite
hides
in plain sight
like beauty marks
or scars
scratches, catches, caked in corners
of eyes
the soul
on a Tuesday
oh, where have you been
underground queen
dancing away
to industrial tapes
and screaming blue Jezebel
while anyone can see
she’s a skinny succubus
or merely
a sketch of one
who wished she was
Soundcloud recording: https://soundcloud.com/clairevetica/darksparkle
Photo: Eliška Motisová on Unsplash
The Water Tower
The water tower
perched high on the rise
floating world
of childhood holidays
muesli, orange juice
perfect vegemite toast in Penshurst
searching for
unfear
raw
remember
that girl was
always anxious in a way
now wonder if
my addict’s real
or just someone who
found self-harm easy
and crammed defeat
into flamboyance
a proud sham
now soiled
bored
with final flounces
doused in
sanitiser
nostrils flare
that witch wakes up
occurs to me
it’s moments of practicality
when it could be love
instead of flames
a soft patina
murrs pebble heart
like moss
or not
gosh am I lucky
to be so low
the one
who sees
how it goes
stupid mind that tracks and twists
yearning for
the years
of concrete towers
and hours
of unshed tears
Soundcloud recording: https://soundcloud.com/clairevetica/the-water-tower
Photo: Mihai Lazăr on Unsplash
sober
child crawls into my bed
at 1am
don’t know why
bad dream?
lie there
with that tiny flame
of joy
thinking how before
I’d have been…
now I’m sane
next morning
wake early
and run
through the rain
endless liquid
absorbed easily
in sand
no glass of wine
competes with wild
wind and waves
drink the moment
shake my head
at empty beer bottles
that roll and smash
on picnic tables
the drunk won’t see
beauty here
in this moment
just for me
Photo: Claire Doble
Dear You
Dear
about to start my second draft
and I need to talk to you
it’s uncharted territory
big stuff
expectations. hopes. ideas
we must discuss
what others have said, articles read
I’m scared
but weirdly prepared. Like, I can do this.
can I do this?
where are you?
think I might know
while having no fucking clue
about
something you never got to do
can that be right
feels untrue
selfish, me. Just wish you were here-
and I’m still listening to Taylor Swift. I know
it’s sad
… you preferred me as a goth boy
maybe I did too
never got to send the lyrics I speared
and I’ve been meaning to tell you
how I volunteered?
parts of my life
already different and remade
paths being erased, fazed
and where are you anyway?
I ran today
pulled out my phone
to send a g’day
you’re not there
who would check
we really need to chat
It’s just not fair
you went away
and
how is it
that I stay
Photo: Claire Doble
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