by Maree Reedman
My backyard is blanketed in lavender flowers, little trumpets, heralding memories of university days, exam time, the year ending, and my mother, who liked purple and blue, how she cut down the majestic jacaranda on her footpath because it was close to the power lines. There’s a family of frogmouths in the paperbarks at work. My niece and nephew are getting their licences, Dad’s going on another cruise. My mother died in the dead of winter, she wouldn’t wait for the frangipani to sprout green leaves at the end of its old fingers. Maree Reedman lives in Brisbane with one husband, two cockatiels, and five ukuleles. Her poetry has been published in the United States and Australia in Chiron Review, Naugatuck River Review, Unbroken, Stickman Review, Grieve, Hecate, StylusLit, and has won Ipswich Poetry Feast awards, including a mentorship with Carmen Leigh Keates.
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May 2024
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