G A L L E R Y

S E K N O W L E S

L E I S E K N O W L E S

Seven Sisters https://theoneiric.org

Mixed media on canvas 40 x 40 cm. (one of four exhibited in Italy) Leise Knowles 2015.

All Rights Reserved on article and photographs

Leise Knowles © 2023.

You could be my new baby. My new baby that doesn’t need changing. We can cuddle with less responsibility. Little Grogu that my son stuffed for me. I check myself when I think it- Crazy! You could be my new baby. The choice taken away had me mourning the monthly bloodletting, the possibility. I didn’t want more children I said. Now I cry when I hold real babies.

I dream of having them but they are taken away and you’re so cute! We could travel alternate universes together, love each other without the hurt. You would never age or answer back and I would no longer mourn the part of me that is a black hole. My new baby, alien soft toy- Crazy! A purr would make you prefect.

- Elizabeth Lish Škec

Dream Exposure

If I fall asleep they’ll get me the two men in white suits with white hats, yellow ties shot guns clutched to their chests. Lovers of the kill chasing me through deserted streets to the train station old gates always locked. If I don’t jump the gates they’ll get me barrel to chest with a burst of flowers and a flag that says BANG!

A banging flag that will hit my chest so hard

I’ll have a hole in it look down, up again, say ‘You killed me you bastards!’ I’ll be able to put my fist through it. How am I supposed to drive a truck like this?

I’ll be thinking.

If I don’t keep running, the train station will morph into the Footscray high street. I’ll be running for the truck with a gaping hole In my chest the wind howling through me. The men in white Will be red suits with red hats and black ties always 25 metres behind then an arm length away when I open the door, throw myself into the drivers seat next to an old mate I don’t see any more. It will be someone I miss.

If I drive the truck the men in red will don their black suits, hats and white ties run me down like terminator hosts of the old west never breaking a sweat chase me into the trades hall building and up the stairs.

If I don’t climb into the dumbwaiter they’ll find me the two men in black with white ties and hats. They will have friends with them. The old mate I don’t see any more but miss, the people from the train station I didn’t notice.

If I pull the ropes inside the dumbwaiter they’ll break.

I will have to climb out, hear their assurance

‘We just want to be your friend’ before their weapons are unleashed and I start running again.

If I stop running they’ll get me laughing clowns from a crazy kid carnival pacing in circle, pointing their oversized gloved fingers at the gaping hole in my chest I’ll look down and realise I can see right through myself.