Untitled
︎︎︎︎︎ Annabel Evitts
︎ Sept 18, 2023
O images developing like foetal spines,
Ectoplasm – coloured Alice blue
And seafoam, and jade -
Thrown up
Against the umbrous
The penumbrous circumstance of
Night and body
Is this my tremor
Or the world’s
Is this my eye or the needle’s
Needing to penetrate something
This sun limb
Is a minaret
Forgetful of its own worth
This cigarette is a dream
This dream is a bloodied
Bird’s wing in the snow
A minnow in the spoiled river water
Hashtag: am reading
Hashtag: corporeality
Hashtag: mess, feral, mourning, wormhole
Hashtag: grace
Hashtag: dawn
Hashtag: i have fallen
Doom mistress
Flowers stained like nicotine
Like book pages turning their
Faces away from the future
Grace is a word so often lost
Elusive, misremembered mistress
Undressing in solitude, in
Half-light, in June, in rings of fire
Grace is my flaming, suicidal kite
It says, come feed me to the night
It says, remove your lipstick, your perverted, lined eyes
Come feed me to the night and I’ll make the reparations.
I’ll be your violet, your blue horizon –
I’ll hover eternally like the memory
Of an explosion (a detonation)
I’ll hang like a question mark
Look, here is the imprint of my body
Look, here is
The sun
The sun
The sun
Ectoplasm – coloured Alice blue
And seafoam, and jade -
Thrown up
Against the umbrous
The penumbrous circumstance of
Night and body
Is this my tremor
Or the world’s
Is this my eye or the needle’s
Needing to penetrate something
This sun limb
Is a minaret
Forgetful of its own worth
This cigarette is a dream
This dream is a bloodied
Bird’s wing in the snow
A minnow in the spoiled river water
Hashtag: am reading
Hashtag: corporeality
Hashtag: mess, feral, mourning, wormhole
Hashtag: grace
Hashtag: dawn
Hashtag: i have fallen
Doom mistress
Flowers stained like nicotine
Like book pages turning their
Faces away from the future
Grace is a word so often lost
Elusive, misremembered mistress
Undressing in solitude, in
Half-light, in June, in rings of fire
Grace is my flaming, suicidal kite
It says, come feed me to the night
It says, remove your lipstick, your perverted, lined eyes
Come feed me to the night and I’ll make the reparations.
I’ll be your violet, your blue horizon –
I’ll hover eternally like the memory
Of an explosion (a detonation)
I’ll hang like a question mark
Look, here is the imprint of my body
Look, here is
The sun
The sun
The sun
Annabel Evitts is a writer and poet living on Kaurna Land. She holds a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Adelaide.