I see myself in puddles.
Empty, empty wells
Giving, giving, scraping the bottom of the dark damp pit
Dry, so dry
The ocean sways, the creek heaving, the base of the shower gurgling
Full, so full, but empty
I catch myself looking in the shop window
Bulging, ballooning, swelling
Dissimilar to the white, faceless mannequins
My echo on a polished surface
The bonnet of a car
‘I want to see my face shining in it by morning’
I ScrUB and SCRub and ScruB
My mirror, mirror on the wall
Crawling, crawling within myself
Squint and I can maybe even see the shape of me
But not me
A better me
They slink in, quietly, slowly
Laid across my floor
Hung upon my wall
Smiles, smiles and crinkled eyes
Some figures gone, others lost
There stilted smiles are all I have left
Moments seized, caught, held onto
I change, and they change
I can glimpse at it in other people’s eyes
Do I annoy you, dear brother?
Does my laugh sting?
Do my words become shrill?
Do my arches not fit your puzzle?
I will only ever see shadows, replications of myself
We acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, who are the Traditional Custodians of the land on which Woroni, Woroni Radio and Woroni TV are created, edited, published, printed and distributed. We pay our respects to Elders past and present and emerging. We acknowledge that the name Woroni was taken from the Wadi Wadi Nation without permission, and we are striving to do better for future reconciliation.