In her second book of poetry, Bianca Bowers deconstructs and redefines her identity beyond the confines of domesticity while exploring her creative voice and searching for an unattainable sense of belonging as an Australian immigrant.
I watch the moon dwarf my bedroom window
and shelter inside a question mark
With a mix of poems that are both surreal and grounded in reality, Bowers shifts between the conscious and subconscious, reality and dreams, as she seeks to find passage in a restless landscape.
When I find my voice, it muzzles the lark’s chorus…
my roots shrivel below the heath,
but harebells bloom from my fingertips∼
