I have no desire
for looking back.
No thirst for salt.
Not one pine
for the old ways.
Nor a crave
for familiar tastes.

Those friends, this husband, children that I’ve loved
all fall away. I drop
my cloak of obligations.
Brush off embers
of memory –
the dying glow
a bundled heap
for someone else
to sweep away.

Now, bare-shouldered
in the cold night air
my neck remains still
reluctant to turn.
I force myself
to own
that loyal dogs
will burn.
Wide green gardens
scorch.
My pegs will melt
to cinders on the line.

But I have not cared
for eons. I do not
wish for there again.
I have no home
to be sick for.
I have been
many years now, sick.
Sick of
home. Sick of home.

Helen Thurloe

 

Helen Thurloe is a Sydney-based writer and poet. Her debut novel, Promising Azra, was published in 2016, and was shortlisted for the 2017 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards. Helen’s poetry has won national awards, including the 2014 ACU Prize for Literature, and has been published in anthologies, journals and online. www.helenthurloe.com.au

© 2017