• Time to read less than 1 minute

I lie like flotsam on the shore. 


The shallow green waves make patterns on the beach,

blisters and dark space. A backwash of brown glass. 


Quicksilver fish kiss like lost pieces of memory. 


I watch the bandages unwinding, stained yellow,

stiff with the hours of loose skin and razor sand.


Blue shadows chill in the gold dusk light.


I gather brown paper and worn shoes, 

and walk into a storm of backlit mosquitos.

Share this and help promote amazing Aussie writing.

About the author:

Dannielle Phelan

Profile picture for user email_registration_7A6Aef74Bq
Dannielle lives an uncomfortable distance from Perth WA and spends more time than she would like commuting. Happily, this gives her time to embellish ordinary days with strange and often unwanted detail. Frequently, she inflicts her stories on coworkers. They suggested she write.

Popular on Brain drip

Writer's Block

Profile picture for user samanthaljames12

She had good days and bad days, and from the moment she opened her eyes that morning she knew it was going to be a struggle. She was tired, as always, but there was something deeper, a heavy feeling in her stomach, a whisper of some indescribable sense that she recognised as the cloud returning. Her vision was narrow, and no matter how slow and deep she inhaled, she couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Closer In

Profile picture for user caitlin_prince_1

You show up in Parnawarratji and try to arrange the single loop of sealed road, the vacant red dirt lots and the dotted housing with massive metal cages on the front, into a ‘community’ in your mind. It isn’t what you were expecting, but then, you didn’t know what to expect. Certainly not so much sky, arcing over the horizon, the line blurred by a hazy fringe of spinifex grass.