Expatriate

By Kim Waters

I

I walk the head and tail
Of this two-sided place.

II

An apartment tower, spiral-story high,
Lying on chlorine pillows.
The silence of parquetry
An elevator ride away
From voices rasping
Against the night.

III

Holding onto a life of temporary objects
A chair, a basket ...
Nothing is permanent.
It can all be swept
Under a furnished table.

IV

Dressed in laundered garments,
Uncreased with the heat.
Staring at golf buggies
Like crochets played across the green.
Champagne glasses,
Sprinkled petals
Of bougainvillea.
Pleated white tablecloths.
The song and dance of the day.
A scale of fish stuck to the sole of my shoe.

V

Each day it gets harder to leave
And the feeling of unbelonging
Grows.

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Kim Waters lives in Melbourne where she works part-time and studies visual art. She has a Master of Arts degree in creative writing from Deakin University. Her poems have been published in The Australian, Verge, Antithesis, Communion 5 and Tincture. She was shortlisted for the Blake Poetry Prize in 2017.