The Space Between Two Bricks

By Jean Pearce

When Charlie came back to Rippleside after the war,
he cut the floor boards at the front door,
buckled, as a pack of cards left out in the sun and rain.
Cut with the hand saw he whittled
from timber washed up on the shore
the morning Bluey fell on the hill near Lone Pine.
When he lifted the boards he saw it,
a Ringtail possum, curled up and sleeping
in the space between two bricks.
Black fur and soft white tail,
warm in the palm of his hand.
He remembered Bluey where he found him lying,
black hair and whiskers, soft with white down,
Cheek, warm against his hand.
Thought he was sleeping,
thought he’d jump up and hoot like he always did.
Yeah, they’d climbed the pyramids together,
sworn friendship forever,
sworn to protect each other till the cows come home,
sworn to come back to their girls.
The Ringtail lay curled up and sleeping,
warm in the palm of his hand.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jean Pearce works as a teacher, editor and writer. She experiments with language and form. Her creative work has been published in Geelong Writers’ and Grieve anthologies.