sh a ron k e r no t

text publishing melbourne australia

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1

love

At the age of elevenI fell in lovewith death.I found a geckoin a dark cornerof a room.Its lifeless eyes open,its small bulbous toessplayedas if about to leap away.

I wanted to keep it,to hold on.I wanted to preserveits lively expression.I placed it on my dresserand watchedits stomach deflate,its scaly skin dry and curland the almost-leapslowly decay.

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2

sleeping beauty

Later, I found a crow,its feathers so blackthey shonewith a blue tingein the bright sunshine.

It lay on its sideat the base of a jacaranda—purple flowers scattered beneath—as if it had fallen asleep,floated down serenelyfrom a branch above.

I stroked its sleek feathersexpecting it to wake,flap strong wings and fly off,but it slept on.

I returned laterwith a shoebox—a cardboard coffin—and carried my sleeping beautyhome to accompany mywithering gecko.

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3

the collection

Three brown tree frogs,two skinks,one New Holland honeyeater,one ant-eaten galah,one dusty sparrowand one fresh, cat-killedred-belly black—perfect,except forfour small puncture marks.

a glass house

Father boughta large glass aquariumto house them,to containthe fusty fug of death.

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4

bur ied treasure

I discovered a sheep’s skullhalf-buried in a paddocknot far from the house.

I might never have noticed itbut for a small murderof crows, feasting.

As I got closer, I could smellthe rotting fleshand hear the hum of blowflies.

The crows yarkedand flapped away.Blowflies scattered and buzzed.

The exposed side was picked cleanin places by birds and foxes.White bone glinted in the bright day.

I tucked my nose and mouthunder my jumperto avoid gagging

and sliced through a small pieceof woolly skin and sinewuntil the skull came away.

The semi-buried side was damp withskin and patchy grey wool,and a withered eye.

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5

annie i

Annie was my best friend.She was everythingI was not.

Her hair was the colourof wheat at sunset,her eyes as blue as a summer sky,her lips the satin sheen of pink pearls,her bone-white skinnever tanned.

She was pale and luminous,a ghostly angel, but, like me, she had a dark heart.

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Taken from The Art of Taxidermy, © Sharon Kernot, 2018.First published in Australia by The Text Publishing Company.