Tuesday, July 26, 2022

New Poetry by Jason Beale










Suburbanites

The slow accelerating grind  
of a distant hoon, the singular drip  
of a bathroom tap in the dark;  

the atmosphere of a Sunday night,  
after the children are asleep, 
is not much to write home about. 

The domestic gods of our domicile 
have decreed that nothing may happen 
louder than a sniffle or a shy cough— 

no flamenco dancing, no midnight lust, 
and no heart-to-heart sharing of souls 
with my partner, out like a log in bed. 

Suburbanites like us wonder at the sound  
of a dog not barking, or at the drone  
of an airplane overhead, ready to stall.  


- © Jason Beale 2022


Jason Beale is a writer from Melbourne. His poetry has appeared in Echidna Tracks and Meniscus Literary Journal.

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