Not many boys truly know cathection / When they see resolve / they talk it in
diagonal parables.

Neapolitan cuts are their go-to. They dribble the ideological ice-cream down their
shirtfronts / lose emotional understanding—strong fists curl into offerings, intent
slick from taught faces; we wonder why every sentimental girl keeps a box of ex
lover tokens under her bed / collecting depth and bringing it into the material,

adding dust. That’s enough momento to convince that men have their best
interests at heart / A bespoke theatre for those interested. If there is proof to
string together a sentence, fit the shoe to the legend, maybe vulnerability just isn't

Like a series of Roman noses unidentified with their owners / Like a specific
serotonin happening once in a millennium. They have a distinction /
pointed toward assumed dialogue.

Listing stories, once valuable, strung together. Reciting lines can’t give way to a
real person / under all that messiness—it’s just automation / I hope you keep
watch over unforgiving terrains.

How poorly made we are—we require paper notes and evidence to keep us from
neurosis—arms, ligaments, and torso / all insufficient. But I envy the receiver. I am
a slip that happens between coins.

Where chests get totally stripped and prided open with jerry cans / searching
for an entrance to the real. An iridescent beetle / in a botanical garden / finding its
home among other heart shapes. Some similarly glamorous and museum-worthy
insects / like a circus trick that ends

with a murder. An alloy plan revealing a great absence where there was
potential, a spiritual loss. They all look spectacular together, maybe
even—dare I say—Instagram worthy / There are surely other things

that matter. Every practitioner / another name cut from the team, leaving
you only the result. Something kept too long in time / An ongoing litany
of disappointments. Kept last on your lips.


About the author

Jonno Revanche is a writer and multi-disciplinary artist that creates work about distance and the difficult to find belonging. They are currently living in Sydney, as a settler on Gadigal land.

Don't forget to tip the author

Please consider giving the author a 'tip'. You can tip the author as little or as much as you like, no pressure. 80% of what you donate goes directly to the author while 20% goes back into keeping the volunteer-run Subbed In & Ibis House projects afloat. Thank you!