By Rico Craig


we’re carrying epistles

waking every morning

to a jug of cold water over our head

saving by streetlights


there are half-eaten bodies

buried in the dirt

they’ve been shot in the neck

and we’re dancing on the streets


running up walls

turning backflips with clerks

in their shirt sleeves

our mothers are bedridden


clutching their own hands

every lover we’ve had is wearing

a different hat

some of them have painted


moustaches on top lips

they’re eating fried eggs

and speaking in coughs.


Rico Craig is a teacher, writer, and award-winning poet whose work melds the narrative, lyrical, and cinematic. Craig is published widely; his poetry collection BONE INK was winner of the 2017 Anne Elder Award and shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor Prize for Poetry in 2018. To find his recent writing, visit ricocraig.com, and follow him on Instagram @rico_craig and Twitter @RicoCraig.

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