Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet,
performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal
about town, feminist, freewheeler, and
friend. One day, she is going to be an
ideas curator. Which basically
means, she will tell you
exactly what she thinks.
Until then, you’ll have
to read between
the lines.
I didn’t imagine it like this
it started
with the same small
dreams I always have
this week another
month maybe a year
I was so disappointed
mouth bitter with
the loss of you
and so the squattable
territory of loss
leaving domesticity
abandoning us
was just a holding
pattern, temporary
as the tide
pulls washes scurfs
my faux Buddhist
tranquility enmeshed
like tongues in the mouth
on the couch in the bath
reaching for a dishcloth
asleep on my high
bed. I watched you
twinning the desire
for past and present
with the endless
resurrection of home.
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this is something beautiful