A Soldier Built Me
a Doll House
(A letter to my grandfather, I miss you)
​How much water did you tread?
Did you sleep? Were you fed?
Did the water reach your waist?
For every kill, did you remember his face?
Did the flies swarm your rifle?
Who did you beg for survival?
A government’s delight, a shooting chancer
He survived the war and instead died of cancer.
Wild Yarrow for my Untempered Sorrow
Suzi, she was only sixteen
Still smiled even when the girls were mean
On her last night, she tried to dance
Her broken bones ruining her plans
They stopped and stared, they laughed and teased, she was bullied the last night she was seen
It’s just that time, they say, it was just a laugh
I wonder if their giggles chased her into the park?
personal essays
When I was 10, my neighbours were selling lemons. There was a small
make shift stall, just trestle tables and a dream, with a scribbled sign with lemons barely legible on a single piece of paper. I could hardly wait to bounce on up the hill to get some. It was an Australian summer, droplets of sweat dripped down my pale chubby legs and my brown virgin hair frizzed from the humidity.
The steep incline up Currawong Road left me aching for my Ventolin inhaler.
Mum was asleep on the couch, she didn’t wake to see me leave. I had only one friend, but we played for hours all summer. We were friends a little too young and a lot too soon, but I learned so much. She was always there for me.
"I do remember you were very academically capable and very adept when it came to writing"
- Year 10 English Teacher,
Aidan Hogg
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