dad nods and we stop laughing
mum’s big story verified
no clouds up the hill new moon
this is Djargurd Wurrung land
bright like a lightbulb due north
next Sunday lunch what is that
window reflection but wait
that shape’s not a
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Deep faith. Souls ‘drawn together the way they were in the life before life’ (116). The fight against the ‘proliferating, evolving whisper of instability’ , that ‘constant threat’ to women (218). The ‘sanctity’ in privacy (269). Love as an ‘unsubstantiated recognition’ (292).
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Forest of pain. ‘The hungry cat sees the girl, her wounds still warm. … gets close to try the flesh; a bomb pounds the street. No flesh, no girl, no father, no cat. Nobody is hungry. The moon overhead is not ….’
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Finessed sledge: ‘corrupt, empty, selfish, self-absorbed … horrified to realize that they are made of skin, flesh that can be cut, boiled, and eaten … despise this world and therefore they are engaged in a constant act of covering themselves up …’
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A sharp gentle work that looks rural life in the eye to create the ‘thin, delicate, layer of ice’ found in truth (279). Mice, mould and humans part of that to be feared then managed. Space itself as a form of prayer.
This chapter is part of an ongoing study of snake–human relations that is reorienting me from the harms of ophidiophobia. All through my childhood I was terrified of snakes. This culturally inherited fright led me to lead others to snake killings.
The Routledge Companion to Gender and Animals, edited by Chloe Taylor, Routledge.
Precise language speaks to the heart, a Romanian woman looks over her shoulder as the hand of conformity tightens around her neck. She chokes, ‘other people manage to clap along and make money’ her hands remain clenched in her bitter fists (69).
Sometimes just three sentences can make a story an anthem. ‘Two hundred years! It’s like thinking you own a mountain because you happen to glance at it in passing one afternoon. In a flash of blinding light the settlers are disintegrated’ (17-18).
Ghosts don’t get more convincing or scary than this twin possession. Who hasn’t seen ‘shadows dancing in a corner … as shadows tend to do’ (126)? Nothing to see, settle down neck hairs, it’s you, ‘she doesn’t have to be there’ (1,026).
How quickly a new normal can overtake the fear of losing peace. In the shadow of Gaza the rapidity with which surveillance shifts to panic, rioting, homelessness, death. All the costs of war. Clutch your pearls as you read this, white woman.
