summer #5

summer is for
Gemma's gardening hands
dirt underneath her nails
'only the ocean can wash my hands clean now'
summer is for too many walnuts
and arms laden with sunflowers

summer #4

summer is driving into the hills
a room, intricately chaotic intricately creative
for ginger chutney
a workshop full of guitars like cadavers
for arms covered in grey water, pulp, feathers and leaves
grey haired women in long blue dresses and bare feet
and hand picking blueberries

summer #3

summer is for
colourful beads around my mother's neck
a pile of records hand picked for me by my father
and the smell of basil
a delicious heave in the olfactory

summer #2

summer is pretending my underwear is bathers

summer is licking my lips and tasting salt

summer is strong arms, sandy and freckled

summer is for eating a whole mango with my hands

summer is for feeling womanly.
for dark triangles, for wholesome curves, for stretching arms, deep sighs

summer #1

summer is for that unique Australian beauty

for the sound of galahs - a shrieking skirling cacophany

for a special rough weathered beauty.

a soil rich beauty

a relentless heat beauty