Pumpkin

by Vanessa Rose

The pumpkin looms above the clivia
up and over our fence, rooted in soil 
that has bloomed a thousand bongs. 
I should push it back, gather up 
its desiccating leaves, its winding vine, 
and bundle it along the top of the palings 
as evidence of the neighbour’s transgression. 
But then I might miss the moment - 
the inevitable gravity of gourd. 
It falls without me seeing it, thudding 
at night into the ground 
irrigated by federation houses. 
Months later, I find it under the glossy straps 
of the clivia, at the tail-end of a dog
rooting out a blue tongue. 
Pumpkin, grey-worn and wilted, 
what dreams did you seed in your last 
days, hidden from the sun? 

Vanessa Rose writes poetry whenever she can. She is a member of Writing NSW and is currently undertaking a poetry feedback course in Sydney Australia. When not writing, Vanessa is a researcher at a not-for-profit social purpose centre based in Australia, Singapore and the UK.