My mother buys me a coffee in my new spaceship.
She too has grown younger.
Figurines of my childhood visibly return.
My flying cane waits for me in my portholed attic.
My dad has placed pot plants with earth grimed outer-rims
Around the lighter and uniform control panel buttons.
The church choir drones on in their thruster
As though perpetually waiting for a signal to cease.
Peter plays parrot with his in-grown thumbnail,
Squawking under the font where I misremember coins.
Hung on the enclosed ghost walk of Nana Lynch’s hallway
Elvis’ pastel face has the shock of a distant vortex city caught peeking.
A division is draped like rusted train tracks over my school desk,
Where Nana Ephraims traipsed and succulents branched.
Beside my lower bunk-half is a white Blue Tack suckered wall
Where battles are never properly fought.
The castle is mottled pink with blading
sand mandala protrusions and diverse soldiers readying.
There are switch-blade dragons and witches
Who tiredly zeplin before dispersing into bats.
My mother’s lullaby is a small forest every night
Where USS Enterprises manoeuvre lavender scent.
Joel Ephraims lives on the South-East Coast of NSW. In 2011 he won the Overland Judith Wright Poetry Prize for new and emerging poets and in 2013 his first collection of poetry Through the Forest was published as part of Australian Poetry and Express Media’s New Voices Series. His poems have appeared in Voiceworks, Overland, Tide, Cordite, Seizure, Kindling and Mascara. He has been commissioned to write a series of poems for The Red Room Company’s The Disappearing which are forthcoming.