by Tamara Holmes
I sit on linoleum
at the back end
of my nan’s house, lean
against the wall that faces
the bathroom door. Nan stands
in front of the sink — floor
dusted with a light
layer of talcum. There is a tungsten
hue, steam ghosts
from the shower.
She is a small
woman, barely
five feet, but when she looks
at me, I see a splash
of amber on the petal
of an iris. She pops
out dentures, perfect pearls
in manicured hands, and froths
paste over their surface. She doesn’t speak
while she holds
her teeth and I wonder
if she sounds different.
Tamara Holmes is a Brisbane-based writer and poet. Her work has been published in Westerly, Art Almanac, and Blue Bottle Journal, among others. She has been a featured artist for QPF Couplet, the QUT Literary Salon, and Here We Queer.
Hyades Magazine 