Fertile Ground
By Ellie Cottrell
Tonight on the train
I thought - everything
feels too small.
It was raining when
I disembarked, the smell
of yesterday’s fertiliser
like something
drenched and sorry
and yes, I guess
this fertile ground
reminds me of
a child
the one I
always thought
I’d grow.
Before robots ate
our poetry and
summer hung around,
I’d imagine her
Before learning
my own scarcity,
I’d imagine her.
Little one - I
could give you
a home, but
it wouldn’t be
home enough
Ellie Cottrell (she/her) is a writer and poet working on Whadjuk Noongar Country in Western Australia. Her writing has appeared in Meniscus Literary Journal, PULP Lit Mag, Creatrix, StylusLit, Poetry d’Amour, and elsewhere. Ellie’s second poetry collection, Just write about a bird, has recently been released through In Case of Emergency Press. Find more on her website.
Artwork Source: “The Common Insect,” Of Thousands
Artist Statement: This piece was made after looking for a place to live that felt supportive of my lived experience. I had to find a new home after a decade of taking care of ailing parents, where exploring nature was my only escape. The closest people to me in the area passed, but it took several years before I could move myself out of my former town. The main character in the image considers the fantasy of a lighthouse as new housing, staying somewhere so new and bright that I could pave my own way.
Eli (Of Thousands) is a queer Wisconsin transplant residing in Chicago. They’re inspired by their found family, fashion, and the intersection of city and nature, working daily in mixed media. Most of their work deals with queer experience, searching for the concept of home, and reciprocal care.
The Turning Leaf Journal 