Nothing stirred on the frosted fields. Ducks rose off the river silent as commas. Elizabeth pulled her coat tight. Cloudlets fluttered from her mouth as she bowed her head and traipsed on, catching sight as she did of her muddy hem. Just as the first low fingers of sun were extending their reach she looked up to see a figure approaching in an overcoat, unbuttoned. He strode towards her, not yet aware of her, shirt…
Another red light. He palms his chin, taps the steering wheel. Sport-plus-shopping traffic. Next to him his wife is silent. What a way to spend Saturday morning, stuck in the car with her in a mood. His head hurts from last night. That’s why she’s pissed off. Green, but only two cars make it through. The hulking yellow and blue sign taunts in the distance. Bloody IKEA. He can’t stand the place. Full of pregnant…
published in Waiting for the Southerly October seems confused, we shed clothes put them on, look to the sky for clues shake our heads. Last week the relentless smack of blowflies on glass, shut against the sun later flung wide for any chance cool. Next day heaters retrieved from storage as snow falls in Katoomba. At night the news is complicated people run with their money presidents race to the finish line. I’ve heard the…