Over the next few weeks I’ll be posting extracts from some of the new poems in the updated edition of Bone Ink released through University of Western Australia Publishing
The poem below digs into the often slightly frightening moment when you see a person in a public space that you don’t expect to see…and don’t really want to see.
the indicator board, it’s scrolling
through stations, there are dead leaves
spilling from your pockets. I hear the rumour
as you hide your hands. A nursery rhyme I half remember.
I recognise the sound shapes make as they lose hold.
What you know of me
is on the concourse tiles