January 2018
A Point Cook Bathroom

To the bathtub at that party,

You must have heard us all that night.
We sat there for hours on end,
Teetering on your edge,
Amongst shampoo and rubber ducks.

We sang Scarborough Fair,
Sounds attacking both tiles and us.
You and I filled with soft melodies
And you made the quiet feel loud.

People came and went from our perch on your edge,
You must have heard them all.
Using your tap for the holy water of our confessional,
Each traipsing teen spilling stories as
we cleaned their shirt of spilled drinks as
some joined us,
Just to sing soft melodies amongst beige tiles,
Holding us within them.

And we gave away our stories to you
And I told some secrets that they know
and you know.
You must have heard us all that night.
Your curves taking the edge off our reality,
As we sat there, welcoming those who joined us,
People needing to stare at themselves in the mirror,
Or wash their hands of the night.
Singing with us,
Or asking for a bottle opener
to make their quiet voices feel loud.

Silly kids,
Singing Scarborough Fair,
Decanting ourselves in your hold.
I am sure you must have heard us all that night

And someone came in to take a photo
So we perched and posed
Teetering on this edge we’ve found ourselves upon -
You’re edge -
And someone said this will all be changing soon.
You must have heard them.
They’re probably right.

Photo credit 📷 Alec Southgate