Diagram these bodies
of the old order. They carried us
to the shoreline, but no more.
The bodies tell us they are frightened
in all their fitful planning
they left no space for a tide.
But this time, we choose the bearings,
inscribing soft as voices
a new map for this apartment,
a laptop’s fan,
tradie sawing
uninvested in the flat next door
this evening when I am drawing you
like water
the mattress adrift, harbouring the survivors
the first apostles of a quiet year
Jini Maxwell is a robot ally, future ghost, and sincere, playful maker. Her pictures and words have recently appeared in The Lifted Brow, Cordite Poetry Review, and Dumbo Feather.
