by Natalie D-Napoleon
The weather in my head says a storm is coming, the headache switch is on again. Dust rain sweeps down over the cabbages in the field - little heads curl at the edge, like books discarded, unread. The cabbages wait to be rid of the white moths, dots of eyes on each wing unblinking at us think- ing animals. As a child I used to swat the moths with my hands, white dust puffing into the air, a magical game of fairy-powder-chase, delighted to extinguish lives. I go to Farmer’s Market, buy an organic cabbage, peel back layers and layers of leaves, a few ragged punctures here and there. When I think about it, the weather in my head can be calm, too, sometimes crystalline, blue. Maybe my headaches are a longing? Memories left on a patch of dirt, cabbage leaves scattered like discarded moth-eaten book pages in an unploughed field. Natalie D-Napoleon is a writer, singer-songwriter and educator from Fremantle, Australia. Her writing has appeared in Meanjin, Cordite, Westerly, Griffith Review, and The Australian (Review). She has won the Bruce Dawe Poetry Prize (2018) and KSP Poetry Prize (2019). Ginninderra Press released her debut poetry collection First Blood in 2019.
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