Awaken Sleeping Beauty
Biting down on wet shoes
An over ripe orange that the dog peed on is all I can smell. I’m wondering what’s going on in this lime green, sky blue world. My muscles freezing to the sourness. The Nepean River is turning gold, the month of March spiders are finding home in shoes and yet we still can’t wake. It’s like a spell cast over us by the overdone orange, it never let’s go. When will we wake from this purple black, yellow bruising and listen to the song of mourning magpies, the cry out loud cockatoos, the distressing lyrics of the lyrebirds. So why are we still sleeping?
Rose
