A four foot high monster of pizza boxes and beer bottles,
Shadows the neglected lino floor.
A black gluten crusted plate sits under
A puddle of water in the sink.
The master bedroom remembers Monday is bin day,
She sleeps on the floor sometimes,
When it’s hot.
The Cone Castle is older than us. Combined.
The old library is an art student.
She apologises for others and nothing.
Milton Road accompanies the soundtrack
Of 60s soul and Brisbane garage pop.
The children’s room is littered with clothing.
A pink boot on the desk, women on the walls.
Strangers walk by, they sweat from the hill.
We sit on the steps, we wonder if they hear us.
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