Quick review of this gem of a poetry book I chanced upon in a bookshop:
Can’t find a single poem I dislike, best read when nursing a heartbreak, and with, as the author herself suggests, a glass of malt. This definitely is an organic oatmeal bar, with just the right amount of sweetness.
Here’s just one of my many favourites:
A teacup you bought me as an inside joke.
More anger than it can hold.
Letters I wrote and never sent.
A book you owned as a child.
Boarding card stubs for a journey
we were never ready to make.
The first week of September
marked hopefully in my calendar.
My empty palms,
my bursting heart.
An address I will never reach.
The ongoing search for the
language with which
to make you mine.
Two blurred photographs.
Old scarred skin.
Small places in me you didn’t manage to find.
Twelve Australian coins,
two-year-old-emails, & goodbye
coming into words.’