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Anne Walsh

Anne Walsh is a Poet and a Story Writer. She’s been shortlisted for the Newcastle Poetry Prize twice and for the ACU Prize for Literature. Her first book of poems, I Love Like a Drunk Does, was published by Ginninderra Press (2009, Australia). Her work has also been published in the U.S., including a short story, The Rickman Digression, by Glimmer Train. Her second book of poems, Intact, was published in January 2017 by Flying Island Books.
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Lamps

People have lamps for bodies. When you’re in hurricane love you can see it, the light house, the summer rental for the soul lit up like unexpected fireworks that make a holiday. The human body is an arsonist. At any
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Glass 2

I’ve only ever been at home in blizzard, the electric pink dollar store glitter eyeshadow slant of it. Make no mistake God is black and trans. I’ve seen her pink slippers slide in drifts, her matching boa off the
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Macaroni Lips

I’m pouting a Fibonacci sequence, a phyllotaxis of impatience, a fern unfurling, the fine pout of a pineapple sprout Don’t you know that the Golden Spiral is just my pout while waiting for you, my pine to uncurl you The
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Crayons

In trees, in crayon leaves, a box of autumn with a sharpener of birds. How my eyes flew to them. How flocks of big-horned clouds were un-shepherded like hope and went everywhere they shouldn’t be able to: my hands, my
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Second Language

When you have to leave home the word belonging loses the be and just the longing is left. When your language isn’t spoken by anyone, when you have no one to talk to in it but you your memories stop trying
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Borderlands

I live in borderlands where cobwebs spin my fingers together and sun burns the mark of earth on my tongue. My home is two places and none. Born here and there, speaking the languages of both, my greatest fluency is silence.
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