Train to Quakers, by Rico Craig

Recent poetry by Rico Craig has been published by Meanjin, Cordite and Minor Literature[s]. In 2014 he was shortlisted for the University of Canberra Poetry Prize and the Newcastle Poetry Prize. His poem Angelo was awarded third prize in the 2014 Dorothy Porter prize by Meanjin. For additional work visit

This story first appeared in Issue Eleven of Tincture Journal. Please support our work and the payment of our contributors by purchasing a copy.


Image by Abbie Foxton:

I am a ghost coming home. The dove

on your wrist has turned to ash. No song

will bring you back. Old awnings and their flaking

messages bewilder me; the sound of a siren

in front of Red Rooster, slow-changing traffic lights

where I cupped your head as you fell

into an electric riddle; your epileptic body

in desperate shapes on the pavement. I still

feel your shaved scalp beside my thumb,

hear the ticking of bangles as you shake

visions from your fingers, see the pitch of your

eyes turned back. Those days were a gift.

My memory is pale witness to the sight of you

twisting on a bed, a cigarette burn by your right breast,

this young mind an ember in your hands. Today

has found all our secret rendezvous. I can taste

your Winfield Reds and hear the spindle of your

lighter scratching. I left these memories, years ago;

bundled in a waterproof jacket beside the train line

to Quakers, under a mound of rocks, never to be

retrieved. Now our dancing shadows have returned,

our gaunt teen desires are on their feet. The hidden

part of me that plucked colours from your bird

ribs is alive again and I have a final secret to share.

3 thoughts on “Train to Quakers, by Rico Craig

  1. Pingback: Issue Eleven Table of Contents | Tincture Journal

  2. Pingback: Train to Quakers, with image from Abbie Foxton | ricoandhisroboteye – Rico Craig

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