April is the cruellest month
Breeding baby tigers for petting
Mixing memory and desire
Stirring, dull roots with yourself,
Overheating laptops kept us warm
Covering the Earth in forgetful e-waste.
Feeding a little life with banana bread.
Oh Marie, how did we get here?
To think you got pregnant
and had no sexual pleasure.
Roots, branches, babies.
At night I dream I am with child.
I do not go to mountains; I do not feel free.
My cousin did not take me for a ride on his sled.
A heap of broken images, broken bandwidth.
Until the moon is tired, I dive headfirst into
a crime scene phantasmagoria.
My sister an Easter lamb bakes her own cake
twisted around the sun
The garden slugs evade the chickens.
My nurse the shift of night, I sleep all evening
all day. Walk the dog in the hours
of pitch black. Eat breakfast at sunset.
I dream of my lover in this Wasteland and
an end to April.
Jasmine Shirrefs is a zine maker, dog parent, writer and social work student living on Boon Wurrung land. They were a Wheeler Centre Hot Desk Fellow 2019 and have work published by Overland Magazine online, Right Now and Lot’s Wife. They are extremely excited to have an essay in ‘Growing Up Disabled in Australia’ coming out in June 2020.
