Seasons Through the Kitchen Window

Jax Bulstrode

the tree gives me mangos
I thumb them open slow
over the kitchen sink

thank the land for this medicine
pray to the dusty sun
and the coming mist

I am too sad today to bear witness
to the shifting of seasons
to the new leaves unfurling
instead, I mourn what was

eucalypt trees once tall lined my street
the bay clear and cobalt
free land not cement smothered

the sky is now not golden
but grey blurred

I watch the changing of it all
through the cobwebbed kitchen window

Jax Bulstrode writes poems, usually about rivers or fruit or being queer. Jax has had work published in Verandah, Gems, Wordly, and Blue Bottle Journal. You can find them online at @jaxlb1234 on Instagram. Jax lives and writes in Naarm/Melbourne.

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