Excerpt from The Return
by Jan Owen
with one plait loose, a pip in your teeth
and late for Geography, lined and blank,
facts to the right, tall stories left.
To sail the heat in a weatherboard classroom boat
with banana and vegemite colouring the air
sargasso green. To ship ten thousand things
on cursive seas to the edge of the known page
—coffee, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves.
To import small desires and grown-up needs
in little packets of time for show and tell.
To carve your name on the prow.
To wait for the bell.
No news other than that I was at the lowest weight yet in the quest. That progress will probably be negated after this evening, as my dear sister Rebecca is taking me out to dinner. I had high hopes of bicycling when I got home today, in the interim before she picks me up, but the time is too short. Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
It was 49 degrees today when I left work!!!