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Zenobia Forst
Zenobia Frost writes poetry in cemeteries, articles at a desk in a backyard rainforest, and to-do lists on receipts, bits of paper, the back of her hand, and flatmates' spare bits of skin.

She also edits textbooks and occasionally orchestrates events that are really an excuse to drink a lot of tea. Her work has appeared in Stylus, Mascara, Small Packages, Burdock (USA), Rave Magazine, Famous Reporter, and Voiceworks, and she has performed at the Queensland Poetry Festival, Tasmianian Poetry Festival, and around Australia with the Queensland Touring Poets Program.

Read more by Zenobia at:

Her blog
Macara
Stylus
Another Lost Shark

I dreamt you were dead and it was grand (A love poem)
by Zenobia Frost

I dreamt that you were dead
and I was told off in class for grieving,
even though I’d made it on time for once.
Your funeral was touching,
although I probably said something
offhand about touching you.

I dreamt that you were dead,
and I talked to you like you
were an answering machine.
Long monologues beginning, “It’s me,”
and ending, “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.
You know where to find me.”

I dreamt that you were dead
and you knew where to find me.
It wasn’t such a shock.
You were right when you said
no one else would have believed
you were a ghost.

I dreamt that you were dead
and it was grand. We did all the things
we used to do before you developed
that abstract sense of duty.

I dreamt that you were dead,
and you kissed me in public. We slept in
on rainy days. You seemed solid
for once, and for once
you stuck around.

I dreamt that you were dead
and you said that you loved me,
because there was nothing left
to stop you now.

As published in The Diamond & the Thief – February 10 edition