Three bubbles floating against a brown background.


I see myself in puddles.

        wet holes


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

Crooked, imperfect

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

My mirror, mirror on the wall

Turning inward

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

We remember

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. 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.