While I have written poems, stories, and plays in the past, I have been reticent to describe myself as a writer. Why?
Perhaps that is a post in itself.
I was hiding. The problem is, my friends won’t let me.
Graham Nunn challenged me to read at The BackRoom a few months ago, then Tessa Leon challenged me to perform at the Brisbane Poetry Slam.
I was hooked. I still feel myself to be an impostor, but I’m having fun.
We live our lives like loaded guns
You, a Smith and Wesson M29:
Me, a Colt .38:
snub nosed, discreet
better at close range
with a faulty firing pin.
And every time you walk into the room, (click, click)
I can hear (click, click, click)
as you pull back the firing pin
and there is blood and metal in my mouth
But, last night
you reached for me
and dismantled me
as if you could strip me to my composite parts and grease me down
I was fully loaded and ready to fire.
We live our lives like a duel
and I taste blood and metal in my mouth
As you walk 10 paces out the door