Wednesday 20 April 2016

1 Poem by Raphaelle Race

he’s been in the wars most of his life 

all retreats
driven friends away regained and lost cohesion
heard Them clawing through the pages of his greatest novel
ready to tear him a-fucking-part 

the only way to exorcise Them
gasoline and an old wheelbarrow by the pond 

I saw the ashy dead fluttering
a week later abandoned
in their cradle
he was too terrified to approach it
so there was a new path worn around to the chicken coop 

he went back to the whiter the rounder
the easier to see with
with pills, the world is nervous
but it has stopped its quaking 

there is stillness now but
that wheelbarrow still squats by the water
swelling in its iron 

his eyes glance off it sometimes
and you can see shining on the pond
the pages flaring in his arms


Raphaelle Race is based in Melbourne and works as a freelance journalist and editor. Her writing can be seen in Overland, Junkee, The Big Issue, Kill Your Darlings, Phantasmagoria, Writers Bloc and Feminartsy. She is Deputy Editor at and Features Editor at http://www. .

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