KA Rees #31 - A small list of things

A small list of things

We lie among the grasses in the sloping yard, a butterfly flits near the garden beds of the ground floor apartment. The clothesline with its plastic funnel strung from the frangipanni tree to the corner balcony. The shed lies open, a cool earthen smell. Pots spill with soil and plastic sheeting towards a slip of gravel on the old earth. The space for a child to crawl gets smaller, but not for the cat perched atop a blue tarpaulin, lord of the thrown things.

An outdoor shower attached to pale brick with heated flecks; the moss garden that grew underneath rainbows—water from the shower head. And the paint her grandfather lifted from the army’s surplus, any dull concrete or rusted handrail turned into the green of a tank or the deep russet of the boiler room. Underground tunnels at North Head.