Childhood HomeBy Louella Sullivan
When they retire, my parents
will sell our childhood home.
Hot-cracked slasto by the pool
The fading shadows of a long-gone frangipani tree
The echoes of children’s voices
Grow paler each year.
My brother is wistful:
I wish I could buy it from you guys
He dreams of a new wife and babies
growing brown and happy there.
The rope swing still hangs from the avo tree
The stone birdbath endures in the rose bed
The azaleas grow fatter every year.
Louella Sullivan learned to type poems one-handed whilst bouncing small babies on her lap. She did an MA in Creative Writing at Rhodes in 2014 where she completed her thesis Bitten under Robert Berold. She is a Drama, History and English teacher as well as a part-time lecturer at Rhodes University. She has been published in Aerodrome, New Contrast, New Coin and Itch. Her poems have been described as "polished, poised and vivid". In 2016, her poem "Refugee" was longlisted for the Sol Plaatje European Union Poetry Award.