salty wounds

what happens to the spaces we don't fill?

i have one left in me for you.

i notice it there and think, "what a waste of space!" and try to move in.

but i am stopped at the gate and realise it is taken.

it is empty, but it is yours.

and i sit down where i am now and feel sleepy.

i send my assistant home early and the phones start up as soon as i do. but i still prefer the silence of the time between calls without her here.


otherwise, melbourne international film festival is over for another year and my eyes are slowly readjusting to daylight.

but i do miss everything melty and choc-topped.

sticky in the dark.

writer’s festival is about to be launched, and then there is melbourne underground film festival, and then fringe. i am sure i’ll not be searching too hard to find culture to replace the missing culture.

feels like replacing drugs with buddhism.

but where are you now, and why do i still have a perfect you-sized space waiting here in me?

i hope it heals before it heals over.