I saw the open bodies of many people, covered in nothing
but their skins. They lay down like big wounds.
They were very quiet—they knew there was no other way.
They knew what was expected.
The large male body they lay in was kept invisible.
I watched them change into shadows the shape
of their bodies, become dark holes
filled with nothing. They made their way between
the man-body’s tissue, its layers of blood and meat.
They were too empty
to consider leaving some space
for their own air. I also noticed that the lamp in the big body was dimming.
The lamp was really a void—a dry sea with a night
sky in it—and there was no woman to switch on a star.
Author Bio:
Annie Blake is an Australian writer who started school without knowing any English. She has poetry published or forthcoming in Into the Void, Southerly, Hello Horror, Verity La, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, GFT Press, About Place Journal, Australian Poetry Journal, Cordite Poetry Review and more. Her poem ‘These Grey Streets’ was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize by Vine Leaves Literary Journal. Poetry helps her to develop her life-narrative by emotionally-suffusing her memories. She loves analysing her dreams and using their symbols to guide her through her unconscious world. She is excited about the process of self-actualization, research in psychoanalysis, philosophy and cosmogony. She holds a Bachelor of Teaching, a Graduate Diploma in Education and is a member of the C G Jung Society of Melbourne. When she is not mothering, reading or writing, she can be found surfing the offshore waves of Torquay in Victoria. She lives in Melbourne with her husband and five kids. She can be visited on annieblakethegatherer.blogspot.com.au and Facebook.
but their skins. They lay down like big wounds.
They were very quiet—they knew there was no other way.
They knew what was expected.
The large male body they lay in was kept invisible.
I watched them change into shadows the shape
of their bodies, become dark holes
filled with nothing. They made their way between
the man-body’s tissue, its layers of blood and meat.
They were too empty
to consider leaving some space
for their own air. I also noticed that the lamp in the big body was dimming.
The lamp was really a void—a dry sea with a night
sky in it—and there was no woman to switch on a star.
Author Bio:
Annie Blake is an Australian writer who started school without knowing any English. She has poetry published or forthcoming in Into the Void, Southerly, Hello Horror, Verity La, Vine Leaves Literary Journal, GFT Press, About Place Journal, Australian Poetry Journal, Cordite Poetry Review and more. Her poem ‘These Grey Streets’ was nominated for the 2017 Pushcart Prize by Vine Leaves Literary Journal. Poetry helps her to develop her life-narrative by emotionally-suffusing her memories. She loves analysing her dreams and using their symbols to guide her through her unconscious world. She is excited about the process of self-actualization, research in psychoanalysis, philosophy and cosmogony. She holds a Bachelor of Teaching, a Graduate Diploma in Education and is a member of the C G Jung Society of Melbourne. When she is not mothering, reading or writing, she can be found surfing the offshore waves of Torquay in Victoria. She lives in Melbourne with her husband and five kids. She can be visited on annieblakethegatherer.blogspot.com.au and Facebook.
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