Author: Rebecca Sullivan
parting one point five
among the lavender
a myna feather
five k ruled radius
behind a fence
frayed bird of paradise
mask-less men at work
the seven sides of a stop sign
a grey gum forks
electric wires
my muzzled breath
distant school bell sings
suitcase on the nature strip
in roller-blade knee pads
an old man paints
the broken lock
on a gate that swings
stage four curfew
eight pm
rings around the August moon
3rd August 2020, Melbourne
“18.0
The International Museum of Rape will be a solemn affair, like the church, where I once mis-placed my reverence. Church, though, being it’s own museum of rape, will have to pay dearly”. Ellena Savage, Blueberries
drawing by Rebecca Sullivan
Dedicated to The Tuesday before Good Friday 2020
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time is an incident report
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dirty rain;
baby sparrow
dead on driveway
Portrait of lady on porcelain plate
Pink dresses dancing for clergy
Little fire in a chandelier
I take pause at the edge
of a gallery in branded sandals
one foot off the floor
before the toes of a Persian Queen
summoned AND SO I WILL GO
UNTO THE KING WHICH IS NOT ACCORDING
TO THE LAW AND IF I PERISH
I PERISH I turn
Under the arches of the exhibiting hall
real-life bride performs a pirouette
two men each eye their lens
one on one knee
the other circumnavigating
light in crafted spin
poem and drawing by Rebecca Sullivan
A pale orchard is the speaker
he is older than bones
older than a visitor flickering beyond night
dropped in Blood Mother’s hand
a sheet draped white yellow flower
reveals he is close
close to her sweetest internal rhyme
he dances words from the eardrum of her ocean cave
becopoetry 