193 192 191 190 189 188 187 186 185 184 183 182 181 180 179 178 177 176 175 174 173 172 171 170 169 168 167 166 165 164 163 162 161 160 159 158 157 156 155 154 153 152 151 150 149 148 147 146 145 144 143 142 141 140 139 138 137 136 135 134 133 132 131 130 129

home
_____________

current issue
_____________
events
_____________

back issues
_____________

subscribe
_____________
submissions
_____________
novel search
_____________
poetry prize
_____________
contact us
_____________
links
_____________
 

OVERLAND MAGAZINE JUDITH WRIGHT POETRY PRIZE for NEW and EMERGING POETS

Overland is proud to announce the results of the Overland magazine Judith Wright Prize for New and Emerging Poets, 2007.

runner-up | ROBERTA LOWING

Crush Depth

They keep saying the war is over but it is not over.
It is always there: a vapour trail, the negative
of a positive, a familiar profile.

Every day, skeins of grey mist drift across the country,
mock our sunny skies, the carnival colours,
the banners saying the war is over

    but it is not over.

My friends do not understand the black outlines
I see around the crystal dinner set, the discordant violins
I hear in every symphony. But more and more I think there must be

some scarring of tissue, some cramping of the heart,
which allows us to contemplate our own largess
as though it were a moral reward, as though by saying enough times

    the war is over that it will be over.

We brandish our accumulations as proof we are good
men and women
not a freak confluence of minerals and timing

and minds shaped like a gun.
We ignore the shadows in robes, close behind,
obscured in the crowd.

    There comes a day
when droplets of grey water fall from blue skies.
As the light slips away, I pack my bags.

They keep saying the war is over
    but it is not over.
It is always with us, turning into us, the face of the crowd.

© Roberta Lowing

back

hozco logo

h

h