Weekly poem feature: Nonie Trainor

Nonie’s classic order at McDonalds is a 10 piece chicken McNugget meal with a Coke Zero, and tomato sauce, and hotcakes, and she refuses to share with anyone because that’s the kind of person she is.

 

UNTITLED 2013

A thought of you plants a seed in my throat
the pesky thing sprouts and grows
becoming something tangible
when I open my mouth
sprouts fall out, shouting your name.

 

UNTITLED 2015

The only good place to sit at McDonalds was under the aircon
I got extra ice in my drink before I knew
it’s warm outside but freezing inside
lucky I grabbed my jumper.
My hands are freezing and I’m alone
every day is a bit like this-
different place, different air and different food
but my hands are always freezing
and I’m always alone.

 

UNDERCURRENTS

A million drops of water fall outside my window-
it’s a summer rain.
Our skin sticks together but we keep each other close
anyway.
A million leaves fall when the trees go brown
it’s autumn and I realise why it’s called fall.
Socks slide across the tiles in my kitchen
we don’t have any heat in the house except the clothes dryer
we sit by it almost every night so our hands don’t get too sore.
We spend the first warm day in a while
lying in the sun in my backyard in warm comfortable silence,
our mouths filled with cotton wool; that’s words we’ve never said
until the mornings are earlier and the nights are later again.
We’re together
the world keeps changing around us
and I couldn’t count the amount of quiet days we’ve had
on the hands of 10 of our closest friends.
There’s too many seasons going by
for us to have time to say what we’re thinking
too many to say what the under current says
it’s throbbing around us
with words we’ll never say
but words that we didn’t need to say
because we’ve told each other a million times
in everything but words.

 

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