ASHLEE-ANN SNELLER
Ashlee-Ann Sneller
Poem #580, The past is a mirror, and I finally see my reflection
Original excerpt from therapy journal (Thursday 14th May, 2020)
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Freedom, like a herd of kaimanawa horses.
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The earth, deflated like a basketball.
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Counsellor’s office, Wellington high-rise.
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At 26, a woman confronts her past on a beige couch. She is holding a sequinned pillow with hues of blue and green, mermaid scales glittering in the office light.
A woman from ACC sits across from her holding a notepad, pen, and voice recorder. Though spacious, history makes the room look visually compressed.
Tears are an oil that make every colour but those of the main woman blur and blend. The image is distorted like a drunk sway.
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- Hiccupping sobs like hollow wind through trees
- Utterances of the night in question crash like a raging ocean to shore
- In the gaps of large sound, there is a gentle swishing of a pen against paper.
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