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ISBN-13: | 9780702257247 |
---|---|
Publisher: | University of Queensland Press |
Publication date: | 05/25/2016 |
Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
Format: | eBook |
Pages: | 104 |
File size: | 672 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Comfort Food
By Ellen van Neerven
University of Queensland Press
Copyright © 2016 Ellen van NeervenAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7022-5724-7
CHAPTER 1
Whole Lot
family, earth
dingo, eagle
fire, food
Whole Lot
it's all of those things
what we eat comes from our roots
if we stop sharing there will be nothing
we start with black
let it get hold of you
look at the stars
or are you afraid to?
the day shows
country spread open
a map of all that was and will be
don't forget it
I'm tracing it to remember
don't be scared
we are not here until we sit here
we sit in silence and we are open
there are different kinds of time
I hope you'll understand
sing it
I want this to be here
when I leave again
I've been leaving a lot of times
it doesn't mean I want to
there is no easy way to cry
tell them I'll be back soon
when I come back and sit here
I want to still see Mibunn
powering through the sky
let me tell you with my skin
under the earth we will find
Whole Lot
it's all of those things
Love and Tradition
rising sea
takes and
breaks into backyards
to trouble families
we cannot live
with the seas in our bellies
we cannot rest
with the sea at our legs
the tide
is coming
to stroke
our dead
we want to know
who unplugged
our island
of childhood
island
of love and tradition
let them see
what has gone under
Pinions
I want to know what that hawk got in the grass
What it ate alive
Long grass where a Fogarty, a Sandy, a Currie walked
Shining for bones, a boomerang's hand
'You were the last we expected to do this'
I don't know how I feel, except for mountains
And if they bring the artefacts back
Will we be restored?
Finger Limes
Fingers find finger limes
in my country
We travel to the forest
the morning after rain
my fingers have been cold
in the mornings
We cross the coloured creek
along a patient log
we walk towards frog calls
we walk away from winter
I want to stop on the way back
get some finger limes
I've been homesick for them
But when we return
they are gone
my fingers
numb
We go home anyway
and you make dinner
I'm sorry if I'm crying
I haven't had anyone cook me a meal
it's been a while, you know?
We talk about what we would
and what we wouldn't eat
to stay who we are
for love
I know more
than I can fit into thought
memory is the last defence we have
against cold fingers
Generous
Her mother has just died
but she has bunya nuts
a shopping bag full
and she gives them to me
I fill a bowl of nuts
to take with me upstairs
mostly to keep my hands busy
peeling back nerves
I've been finding it hard
to move through
when you're scared
you're not very generous
She held my shoulder
when I spoke too fast
wanting no-one to hear me
in the surf
To know and to watch her
is to want to be brave
she sat next to me
split us fruit
She will wear any T-shirt
black and blackfulla
put it on her
take it to the streets
Those West End bars
with their pool tables
a lemon lime and bitters
and a good bloody cry
Pasta
When my parents come to stay
I sneak out across the road
to the bathroom at McDonald's
so I don't wake them
Hotel products in the shower
complaints about the weather
Mum hems my jeans
while I'm at work
That night we go to that pasta place
'For nobody's birthday'
we read to each other in the car
condensation at our feet
Pie
caramel
she orders
her daughter-in-law's favourite
she's driving the ks between states
hoping her state of mind too will change
but the bustle of the south-east pocket
doesn't make her feel any more alive
and she hopes the boy at the counter
won't recognise her as
regularly lonely
Bread
Don't tell me what my heart needs, you don't know
that nothing turns me on more than fresh bread
Maybe because my first lover worked in a sandwich bar
got home with the footy crowds, didn't wash
eyes heavy, we still made love
still laughed and drank beer
My lover grew anxious with crowds, hands, cheese knives
gave up the job for the couch
I tried to make love and laugh and drink beer
without the thrill of midnight rye
Two years of buying half bread or splitting it with the freezer
sharpening knives, sleeping with the weather
I'm not yet ready, not even for you
to commit to the $2 whole loaf
Roo Tails
The ground felt like it did when it's about to storm. My feet were brown and my big toe blistered. My grandmother was talking to my grandfather. A wet patch on my grandmother's back. Her hands roping those tails along the fence.
She turned to me and I saw her.
A magpie flew lower.
Prawn Tails
to take the tail of the prawn
squeeze the end
see the licks of liquid
and pull it hard
like the ring
stuck to your finger
at that party
all things come easier
when fresh
Tea
what we left the tea go cold for:
for pleasure
the show you mine if you show me yours
for anger
the fifteen-year-old glare across the table
for running to the subway
the cup still clanging
to the sound of her steps
for grief
a public sobbing
that comes out of everywhere
a family secret
at the touch of lips
let me keep your tea
lukewarm
Mango
eight years old
walking under the bridge
scrub, swamp
abandoned machinery
insides of tennis balls
bits of fences
meeting the boys
at the dam
bikes in a pile
skater shoe soles
not cold in
never is
boys talking about mangoes
slapping water
some have never had one
listen to the taste
the squeeze of a cheek
dripping chins
a dog jumps in
they pull on tufts of hair
fill ears with mud
breeze full
clouds break
they remember my birthday
is tomorrow
Pumpkin
How you make those pumpkin scones so soft? Must've been cos they were Lady Flo's recipe, eh? Pump just melts in your mouth, cut open and have with cheese. Joh's land is never his land, the water sick, the fish die with their original names. Let's rip that tea towel up but keep the recipe, these pump scones the best I ever had. Turn the music down, I left Unc's pumpkin in the car. I left it and I'm away from country.
Chips
can I say
white people really bore me sometimes
to be exact
I grow tired with what's unmentioned
idling in surf club bathrooms
nothing wrong with the chips
but they're talking about Tasmania
my thoughts haunted by islands
I'm maybe dying
I've too many chips
teeth like stones
take me to be flossed
and cleaned
I need new soles
sticking to the floor
what is happening
with the dialogue of this country
they are killing people with words
if I'm not back soon
tell them I've had too many chips
Stamppot
I said I wanted to grow old with you
you said you're already old
you will be in everything I do
even when you go
you've given me too many things
I need things of my own
I'll find ways to keep you, Mum
we'll be on a hard drive in the future
eating stamppot at the house in the bunya forest
with my father
Coffee in Toronto
there was a sense they had slept in shredded aspen
and were now in the city
they didn't look down at the phone as it rang
they didn't
take sugar
he could make fire out of his hands
she sucked ice
the forest was pushing
the wolves and coyotes
coming back
Bagel
her hands covered in cream cheese
and the first snow drops
waiting for the barge to move
a friend's friend's coat
and a friend's friend's scarf
bite off the wind
protect her chest
the island is
the lake's scar
coming closer
Tamale
Finally, a tamale in Texas. She throats her anticipation with a hairclip and another Mexican beer. Corn husk, like Christmas, out of wrapping, out of Toni Price at the Continental. Singled out of the crowd with a slow one but who remembers, graffiti on the toilet door, every song sounds the same. Fussed by nothing but the company. The way an evening tumble-turns out of trouble, warm voices, tunnel of black beans, every tamale tastes the same.
Berries
she is of the bear people
so she's first to the berries
it is when original people are acknowledged
the room breathes easier for me
a preoccupation with absence
finding the bears in buildings, universities, public gardens
those who belong to wilderness
take off your socks, show your fur
and I'll show you my feathers
Ceremonial Rice
I meet you outside the school
Not good, you say, and when
I press, you say your family lost a brother today
The wind curls on you as you speak
a young one
You're easy as always with the children
smiling at the bowl of rice in your hands
but I feel the weight when you move
You dance the rhino
stamping out the fire
and when I walk home
I hear more than the wind
Cashew Tree
she is one of those women I can't speak to
shadow women
a combination of envy and lust
when I see her on the bus
in a sparkly sari
my head playing some
old folk song
the silver in her hair
the song continues
through the cashew nut plantations
through the streets of Panaji
the windows open
her hair waving
to the tune
waving to the men
working roads they
won't see finished
everything here seems unfinished
still I watch
with great anticipation
for her to find my eyes
Smoking Chutney
Dance, you're making love. It's the only way you can dance. And you're on the dance floor just to get a closer look. Those hips, yes. That flank. Her hair fragrant and viral. The band also her. The beat mortar and pestle. She's pushing down, grinding those spices in the air. And you keep moving forward. Chest forward. You keep moving back. Don't fall in love if you can't live that love. Don't put that pickled hand on someone else. The closest you get is a shared flight, stopping in Bangalore. She'll smile from the tarmac. Find somewhere to preserve this. An ageless woman, an ageless goodbye.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Comfort Food by Ellen van Neerven. Copyright © 2016 Ellen van Neerven. Excerpted by permission of University of Queensland Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Whole Lot,Love and Tradition,
Pinions,
Finger Limes,
Generous,
Pasta,
Pie,
Bread,
Roo Tails,
Prawn Tails,
Tea,
Mango,
Pumpkin,
Chips,
Stamppot,
Coffee in Toronto,
Bagel,
Tamale,
Berries,
Ceremonial Rice,
Cashew Tree,
Smoking Chutney,
Goan Fish Curry,
Comfort Food,
Temptation,
Extra Salt,
Real Estate for Writers,
Bricks and Lightning,
Cousins,
Brother,
Climbers,
Bruns,
Subtitles,
Sweet Note,
September,
Flight Feathers,
At Musgrave,
Meteorite,
Lullaby for a Shark,
Fault,
Five-Minute Meals,
How My Heart Behaves,
Please Pause Today,
G20 Free Range,
We're Still Here,
Invisible Spears,
Surfboards,
Spectra of Birds,
Future Senses,
Iris Brides,
Stomach,
Soft Shell,
Dalgay/Yugambeh Death Poem,
Coconut Oil,
Buffalo Milk,
Notes,
Acknowledgements,