Insects blot the dash. A fox in the emergency lane: still-wet nose points north. How easy it would be to slip off the Hume, grip the steering wheel white. Arms wet from river water. Outside, farmhouses and snow-capped mountains snap out of view—popup books in reverse. City drivers never know which lines to trace. Now, neither do I. Pulse hammers ironed sheets, bruised figs cut open. Last week the Melbourne GP typed general anxiety disorder with two fingers. I fight the urge to meet steel-wool scrub and crumple in on myself like paper. The city’s spine finally punctures the horizon. Tannins stain the roof of my mouth.
Broede Carmody's first collection of poetry, Flat Exit, was published by Cordite Books in 2017. His poetry has appeared in Meanjin, Voiceworks, Cordite and elsewhere.