by Clare Roche
the inky dog circles close I breathe out midnight blue, soundless mist descends I stagger, pulled by violet undertows that sweep me to my knees I taste the wind, watch the restless fish that dart and twist through my chest I dream of eggshells and snow -soft feathers brushing against fine bone cages that trap, close and dark I am undone until one day, a sliver, an opening, swell of light and I exhale a riot of colour. Clare Roche (she/her) lives and loves on Gadigal land in Sydney's inner west. Her poetry has been published in online journals in the UK, the US, Germany, and Australia. Her commercial fiction manuscript 'The Garden' was shortlisted for the Harper Collins Banjo Prize (2022).
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January 2025
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