Sleep easy

After all this stasis, summer has finally arrived. Melbourne is flat on its back, the heat breathing on us like an open mouth. Air warm as blood, dry as sandpaper. The scrape and catch of bushfire season whispering in the leaves, the creak of gum tree fibres desiccating till they splinter. The sense of portent. It’s like every summer I ever knew, twenty years between wiped away, every summer rolling into an endless loop. For the past week I have slept easy and woken smiling. The hooks that have dredged for so long can find no purchase. If we closed our eyes long enough we could dissolve, every part of us swirled up with the warm air. It is summer, and every summer. I would go gladly.

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