The moon shines in

Woken by a cold fear

I hear a sly breeze through the trees,

I feel a frost on my skin,

The moon shines in.

I remember this room in the morning.

My pulse is even my breath is warm,

Yet figments rise to my calling.

I am recalling all the secret destroyers,

Breath in, breath out.

I am in doubt and yet still the same

Twisted in shame without a voyeur.

---

Hyde inside

In the bones of my dreams I see the teeth of what ate the meat
Is it only me or do we all have a hyde inside?
That thwarted self that never got to express itself
I wanted to run ranting and laughing when my consciousness was cracking
I saw under the veneer to the child that played there
A child who was enraged, who didn’t believe that films were staged
Who’s jailors walked in the shape of her parents
I felt her wanting to be, wanting to believe
I seethed with the ache of the distance between the truth and my dreams
I had to be a better parent to her
To comfort, to reassure and nurture and set her free from self torture
Oh please let it be possible that she could be loved
To understand what is and what is not real

---

Night vigil

I am keeping a vigil with the night

Curling in on thoughts that can’t bear the light

I feel only small distress at my plight

This is not my first visit to the dark lands

Here I stand on the shore of a vast lake

Watching sea monsters stir and wake

If I move aside to late

They will swallow me with open jaws

Then I lie in a belly deep

Finding at last the edge of sleep

I pray that with the light I’ll wake

Dreams like this are not for the meek

In the morning the tide will wash back

I will emerge from dreaming’s crack

And wonder just what was all that

The trick is not to look behind you

---

The sleeping monster

The monster sleeps

Its teeth concealed,

I can’t bear to look

To know it’s real.

Let it be what it will be.

Sometimes out of no choosing,

We are chosen and the confusion

Of walking through that delusion,

A minefield of half submerged treasures

Where our blood is measured.

We still have to face

Our forever’s our tomorrows.

---

Artist:

Laura Moverin is a queer Brisbane based artist and poet. She was born in Africa and came to Australia as a child. Currently she works with teenagers as a librarian and is part of a writers club. As a visual artist she works with many forms and mediums. She loves art, nature, children, music and all that is playful. She deals with two invisible disabilities that make life interesting.