by Rachel White
Bark shed, the redgum
stands near a stone—
makeshift grave.
Radio drones: hostages
in Gaza; we voted down
The Voice. Blade of knife
in avocado seed, its shape
exacts a hole in the flesh.
Melamine environs
alchemized by a girl’s
cobalt brushstroke,
its blue pigment bleeding
into a paler version of
itself. Emerging hydrangea
heckled by body-shaming
rape joke boy who
points a choking finger:
“You’re targeting me!”
Crash of security door
shudders. We take one
collective breath. Read
judgement of Solomon,
concept of tearing
a baby in two to prove
a point. My son rhymes
“grief” with “leaf”
in a word game. Funny
how it keeps shaking off
the tree like Autumn rust.
No velvet ears to knead
or kisses to comfort
in this house of sticks.
I read Glück died. Repeat
the route from pet hospital
to home, barbed seeds of
plane trees flank the road.
Rachel White (she/her) lives and works on Kaurna land. Her poetry has been featured in Kissing Dynamite, placed highly commended in the 2022 Woorilla Poetry Prize, and was nominated for Best Microfiction Anthology and Best of the Net 2024. Her recent work appears in The Shore, Thimble Lit, Lunch Ticket’s Amuse Bouche, and others. You can find Rachel on Instagram @rachelwhite.studio.
Hawaii Pacific Review 