Page 2 of 4

Cloak

I was looking for my cloak 
But it wasn’t outside of me
I am the cloak

Housing my nervous system
Containing my blood
Protecting my heart


I was wary of the wolf
But it wasn’t outside of me either
I’m the only wolf now

Stalking my own vulnerability
Ready to trick me
Eyes glinting from the shadows


I wanted to show love to my Grandmother
But she wasn’t outside of me either
I am my grandmother

She is in me
And the reverence I show myself
Honours all of the grandmothers
Whose stories I breathe


So I filled my basket with goodness
And I carry that treasure within me
Self-nourishing
So that I may stride
Upright and belonging
Into the forest


And in the clearing
I seek my healing
And my healing happens
Through relationship
Through connection
Through safety

I am here in the clearing
And I see that you are here too


Copyright 2021

https://youtu.be/29Tl6EZjtis written to honour the release of this single by majestic creatrix Jex Lopez ♥️

Falling

Keep up your routines 
They say
When at risk of falling hard and fast

Ok

She tries

But this pesky pandemic
Has got her all locked down

And the enforced extended distance builds a tension even greater

Morning texts that go til lunchtime

Nap time fantasies abound

Phone calls filled with longing
So much longing
They could only wish
for a shortcut to the next tryst

Lips whisper through the ether
Of desires yet unmet

Something showstoppingly stunning
grows as Spring approaches

But what it is feels jostled
By this other
Discomfort


This insistent presence
of an isolating threat

delaying
delaying
delaying

How delicious can torture really be?

Breastfeeding

I remember 

It was years ago now

Sitting in a privacy cubicle in the parents’ room in the middle of a shopping centre


Conditioned air
Piped muzak
Grubby curtains
Playschool on the tele on the other side of them

Seeking some rest before attempting
The epic effort of loading the car with baby and self
Back to the place of endless labour
and insufficient sleep

Feeling a little self pity
At my lot
As a single mother
not by choice

And a voice
From the next cubicle
Where two local mums had been talking
Cuts through my ruminations

“Babydaddy’s a useless C##T anyway
All he ever does is
Smoke ice
And
F**k putrid hoes.”

Yes, I remember that.

Teacher

I make the space for the brains to thrive

Creating safety

Encouraging fun

Being a peripheral part
of the excited buzz
Of the hive of minds
as they pollinate each other

Witnessing their outrage,
their passion,
their determined agency
in the wryly augmented world
that they know to be theirs

Celebrating the brilliance
in every one of them
In all the manifestations it makes
As it shines through
via their unique and essential imprints

It’s like resting in a forest
As I survey in wonder
the miracles surrounding me
All these perfect human trees
Growing amongst one another

I am in awe

I am humbled

May they thrive
I whisper in my heart
As I meet their eyes and say their names




Cigarettes

Can you go buy me cigarettes

She rasps from the dark cocoon of wherever she is with her demons
On the mattress on my bedroom floor

I take my school uniform off and change into civvies
Put on some mascara so the 7/11 guy will sell to me

Come back with the goods

She’s still there
Deep in her turmoil
But also she sees me
As I bring her lighter

I was raped
She drops it
Like a bowling ball through a glass table
My feet beneath.

I feel the impact
On my childhood
On my innocence
On my place as her daughter

As she discloses
For the first time in her life
Nearly fifty years old
Her vast history of horrific sexual assault

In graphic detail
Of the violence
Of the humiliation
Of the insidious threats to silence her

A suite of stories
That I now see as almost universally thematic for so many women

But her first telling
Was my first hearing

And already I had my own
Silenced stories
Tucked away inside so many poky corners of my soul

She draws on her dart
Exhaling putrid smoke
Into my asthmatic face
She’s feeling that relief
Of no longer carrying it alone

Meanwhile
My feet feel the bruise of the bowling ball impact
My soul is writhing with the discomfort of being made the listener

She looks at my face
Hers switches up and she blinks
Dons the facade of adult
And says

You’d better put your uniform on and get to school


Copyright 2021