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    by Kristen Tytler

    Poetry

When we weren’t cooped up indoors, the most gratifying thing
about those fights were the ends. Once we’d exhausted

our grievances or grown bored by what they implied
about us, we’d go out for a cheap meal on High Street.

I’d order egg on rice that came mixed with fragments of shell,
and you, noodles. There we’d spend, instead of bitterness

and resentment, our hard-won resolve to not worry
about whether the lid of the toothpaste was put back

properly or if it were my turn that week
to take out the bins and yours to do the dishes.

These things, after all, could once be left till morning. But now
that we are floating, locked behind a fragile set of expressions

that barely hold together, we no longer spill our yolk over
the floor and scramble with adulterated joy toward the climax.

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August 2nd, 2020 / Poetry

Kristen Tytler



 

  • ice-skating — by Izma Haider
  • The Singers — Spoken word by Eleanor Jackson, with animation by Maeve Baker.
  • winter jumper — by Hasib Hourani
  • Badenoch Street — by Jessica Kilkenny
  • It Goes, I Had a Dream I Was Your Hero — by Madison Griffiths
  • Eel — by Hinemoana Baker, GDS #29
  • Two Hands — Spoken word by Sukhjit Kaur Khalsa, with animation by Maeve Baker.
  • Morbo — Words and reading by Jean Velasco.
  • left-handed poem for cats — by Dylan Thomson-Barney
  • GAZING AT MY REFLECTION WAS AN ACT NOT OF VANITY BUT PERSONAL FITNESS — by Sholto Buck and Nick Mullaly
  • Nikes — by Danny Silva Soberano
  • one litre of blood — Words by Terri Ann Quan Sing & animation by Maeve Baker
  • Chimera — by Kim Waters
  • Self-Reflection as My Witness — by Anthea Yang
  • the great outdoors — by Elese Dowden
  • from Nostalgia Has Ruined My Life — by Zarah Butcher-McGunnigle
  • a floating body is a flying body — by Christy Tan and thanh tú
  • It Must Be August in Melbourne — Poetry by Jennifer Compton
  • Memorandum — by Belinda Rule
  • How to haunt — by Rae White
  • Circle Jerk — by Xanthe Dobbie

Contact

info@goingdownswinging.org.au

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