out of sync

by | March 25, 2021

maybe we’ll come together      again

in the neighbourhood coffee shop


that stands                   at the edge of feeling

and maybe we’ll know


what we want – the smells of

fried bread, cooking oil, and overripe fruit


blending into each other as my eyes

adjust to unexpected brightness           after dusk.


rotating fans whir                    over our heads

and we wordlessly tuck in


as the singlet-wearing uncle

presses change            into my palm –


the coins glint in          the fluorescent light

our food growing cold


as we talk about everything except

the things we can’t       bring ourselves to say


to each other. maybe the          deep lines

on your forehead                                 will soften


and the waves will lap against the reclaimed land

quietly quietly              quietly


as concern for you writes itself across my face

and you cover it with      eraser dust.


my eyes strayed towards the sun as it dipped below

our line of sight – as if I were squinting past


the falling light on the sea,

and you blinked ∎


Words by Claire Ion.  Art by Bee Eveleigh-Evans.