Moments of Perpetual Chance
1.
Yesterday a friend gave me a bottle of champagne
to celebrate my success. It is made of chocolate.
It is miniature. In my bag, the top snapped. Now
I have a miniature chocolate bottle of champagne
with a broken neck. This is exactly
what success feels like.
2.
I saw a dragonfly lifting
in the summer wind
as I crossed the garden
to the back door of the
old yellow house
in the mountains.
3.
An outrageous
golden dragon
peered into the café
I was sitting in
and stuck its tongue
out at me. This, too,
felt fortuitous.
4.
Sometimes at my desk
I mouth the words
to songs I am listening to,
and dance in my seat. This is not
a show of happiness
but rather
an act
of exorcism.
5.
On the train to the mountains
I was thinking about translation.
There was a ‘pop’
and a whole
other life
opened up
before me.
6.
I thought I was
very strong.
8.
The swim
in the outdoor pool
promised
to be so cold
I would see stars.
7.
Pacing back and forth
at the bus-stop –
deciding to board,
to commit, to see
what happened. What
other choice
is there?
9.
The other time,
in the other pool –
we had to get out
because of the thunder
and lightning; we got
back into the car
soaking wet.
11.
The hike in the rain
and mist, the lyre bird.
The echidna. The
constant blessings.
10.
You made a choice.
12.
For a while,
I was the only one
that could light a fire.
13.
The problem
with the ‘pop’
is that I now
don’t know
what track I’m on.
14.
If I’m honest,
I heard
more than one
‘pop’
that summer
in the mountains.
16.
Now I have platinum hair
and a secret. It’s all
so bittersweet
it makes me
sick.
15.
I try to focus
on architecture,
on design,
on the fact
that the dragonfly lifted
before me, the golden dragon
licked the air
before me. I try to believe
in fortune.
I fear
I am too thin
to accept it.
17.
I ignored a woman I know.
I did not want to talk to her.
It would have been awkward.
18.
I flirted with another,
not wanting to offend,
taking it
a bit
too far.
19.
Shedding
is a type of grief,
the ‘pops’
are a type
of loss.
20.
None of us
know
what
to call it.
Yesterday a friend gave me a bottle of champagne
to celebrate my success. It is made of chocolate.
It is miniature. In my bag, the top snapped. Now
I have a miniature chocolate bottle of champagne
with a broken neck. This is exactly
what success feels like.
2.
I saw a dragonfly lifting
in the summer wind
as I crossed the garden
to the back door of the
old yellow house
in the mountains.
3.
An outrageous
golden dragon
peered into the café
I was sitting in
and stuck its tongue
out at me. This, too,
felt fortuitous.
4.
Sometimes at my desk
I mouth the words
to songs I am listening to,
and dance in my seat. This is not
a show of happiness
but rather
an act
of exorcism.
5.
On the train to the mountains
I was thinking about translation.
There was a ‘pop’
and a whole
other life
opened up
before me.
6.
I thought I was
very strong.
8.
The swim
in the outdoor pool
promised
to be so cold
I would see stars.
7.
Pacing back and forth
at the bus-stop –
deciding to board,
to commit, to see
what happened. What
other choice
is there?
9.
The other time,
in the other pool –
we had to get out
because of the thunder
and lightning; we got
back into the car
soaking wet.
11.
The hike in the rain
and mist, the lyre bird.
The echidna. The
constant blessings.
10.
You made a choice.
12.
For a while,
I was the only one
that could light a fire.
13.
The problem
with the ‘pop’
is that I now
don’t know
what track I’m on.
14.
If I’m honest,
I heard
more than one
‘pop’
that summer
in the mountains.
16.
Now I have platinum hair
and a secret. It’s all
so bittersweet
it makes me
sick.
15.
I try to focus
on architecture,
on design,
on the fact
that the dragonfly lifted
before me, the golden dragon
licked the air
before me. I try to believe
in fortune.
I fear
I am too thin
to accept it.
17.
I ignored a woman I know.
I did not want to talk to her.
It would have been awkward.
18.
I flirted with another,
not wanting to offend,
taking it
a bit
too far.
19.
Shedding
is a type of grief,
the ‘pops’
are a type
of loss.
20.
None of us
know
what
to call it.
Gemma Parker’s poetry, short fiction and essays have been published locally and internationally. Gemma is currently based on Kaurna country in Adelaide where she is one of the co-founders and Managing Editors of the literary journal The Saltbush Review as well as a curator of the monthly poetry series No Wave. Gemma teaches Creative Nonfiction and Experimental Writing at the University of Adelaide.