homecoming — a poem

Oct 23, 2025

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I stroll the Meanjin streets

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The faint smell of rotting fruit

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Like tendrils unfurling

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My fellow walkers

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Scuttling like green ants to escape

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the humid oppressor

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The sun, novel to me still

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My bones, attuned to the brittle cold

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Long since my emigration turned exile

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So I

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Let the heat push and cut into me

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Familiar and not unkind

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There is something to be said of an unexpected homecoming

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The fruit, rotting

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Makes me picture my own marrow

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returning to mulch