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Dorothy Lune: a poem

Once Communal

After "My table was communal, until it wasn't" (graphite on paper 2020) by

Isabella Karina

Hottest January on record.

Stray trumpet

& violin, I lean against an unknown

object, I know a candle casts an oval in the


on the mantle, one leg bent & one relentless,

my eyes weren't ovals until they were. Breathing


chilly curtain, my bed is in the dining area, I usually

sleep here, that table & chair are as relentless

as the sun & moon.

Striped wallpaper;

I stuck it on myself which didn't sound

nightmarish then. I'm recalling / disembodied voices /

sensation –

unknown guest, unwarranted guest, I have

three bowls & spoons only, how could my colleagues bring

along another friend like a stray gum wrapper?

My table was communal, until it wasn't.

Dorothy Lune is a Yorta Yorta poet, born in Australia. Her work has appeared in Pinhole Poetry, among others, and she is currently compiling a manuscript. You can find here here: and here:


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