Breathing Room
We could live in the body
of a baby shark. I could shrink us to slip
like fingers between gills that drowned
on a breeze at low tide.
We could glimpse the sky from off milk
whites of once-seeing eyes.
Mum, we could live happily
in the rotting belly of a beached pup.
A dog’s nose could nuzzle
into our walls and we’d trust our home
would be safe as a secret
taken to the grave. I hear dead things
make good homes, where landlords
can’t reach to sell, renovate, or up the rent.
But I wouldn’t know how to disguise
the smell. With any luck,
it’ll fade into wallpaper
and we’ll ignore the living room floor
—patient as a dormant volcano.
Mum, we could live like hermit crabs
squatting in bottle caps, making a home
out of the thing that’s killing us.
Sean West (he/they) is an Autistic gender bendy poet, support worker, and workshop facilitator based in Meanjin. Their debut chapbook is Gutless Wonder (Queensland Poetry, 2023). In 2024, Sean was runner-up in the Arts Queensland Thomas Shapcott Poetry Prize. They are the founding editor of Blue Bottle Journal. Find more: www.callmemariah.com.
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