The very first poem in the Moment Poetry collection is ‘Last Tuesday’ by Gabrielle Clover.

Last Tuesday I went searching
deep in the bones of the house

buried in suitcase coffins, closed in albums, tethered to photographs – memories
1986 – the plastic pages clung to each other – Christmas at Kiama
I gave you a rock with eyes painted on
you gave me a shell, held it to my ear
told me the ocean echoes the closest heartbeat

but the tides of adolescence caught you by the ankle and dragged you out to sea
you didn’t leave a note
so all I have are the shards of our last conversation, edges sharp with regret
if I had known that the dial tone of the phone
would become the flat line of your heart
I would have talked forever

I would have told you
you are not alone, tossed about by the whitewash of life
where living and drowning both feel the same
I would have drained the ocean – so you could catch your breath
I would have told you
that there would be a day where the ice of depression would thaw
the world would turn from dish water grey
to the dancing Aurora Australis
if you could just hold on
but you couldn’t,
and we were sentenced to a lifetime of missing you

Last Tuesday I went searching
deep in the bones of the house

I found you there
in a polystyrene box – ashes lighter than life
I took you back to the ocean to play once more
in the amniotic fluid of our childhood shore
I opened the lid – the breeze breathed over you and you flew free
I put a shell to my ear
I could hear your heartbeat