Have you ever seen a blind man throw? It’s funny like when my dad couldn’t see and threw me up up up into the sky and past the clouds and I put my hands out like a bird and a plane. And whoosh whoosh whoosh I went down into the earth with the worms and I wriggled like they wriggled in the ground down into the molten rock. My teacher said molten rock is hot and it is the colour of lava and lava is orange. I looked at my arm and said is this the colour of lava Miss? this is orange but there are bits of blue and black in it Miss and does lava hurt like this Miss? and I pressed on my lava arm and scrunched up my face like when I’m in the toilet and can’t do a poo but I’m not in the toilet so this is the scrunched up face of when I hurt. Miss said “Axel where did you get that bruise from?” and I said when I went flying with my dad Miss. Then Miss scrunched her face up but only the top part of her face because all I can see is the hair on the top of her eyes move closer together like when I go into my room and move my teddy bears closer together and their teddy bear hairs kiss each other and I say hush Bears hush, mummy and daddy are just talking very loudly but you go to sleep now with me. But when Miss’s eyebrows stopped kissing she didn’t answer my question about the lava but told everyone that it was colouring-in time except for Axel.

Have you ever seen a blind man drive? It's funny like when daddy got into the car and moved it so it could kiss our fence. But mummy didn't laugh because maybe she didn't see so I said mummy the car and our fence are kissing isn't it funny! She said, Lexa, not now OK go play and so I went and played but I couldn't play with daddy because mum went outside and started playing catch with him because I could see her throwing things to him but he couldn't catch it and then it went crash bang through the window. Mummy got so sad that the window was broken and she cried and cried and I cried and cried too because the window hurted me after it went crash bang and I blood everywhere and cry and cry and then a man came and said sweetie you'll be ok, we take you to the doctors now and they'll fix you right up eh? And he put me on a bed with WHEELS on it like a CAR and I want one like this in my room ok? But mummy didn't say anything except cry because then the man put me in a real car and it went e-o-e-o-e-o down the street and closed my eyes and I stopped hurting.

I stand in the kitchen

and listen

to the kettle b0il

And

Mother crying

And

Father silent

And

shattered

glass

on

the

kitchen

floor

Mum used to taste like mango, succulent and fleshy. That's how my dad fell in love with her. It's gross to think about it like that but you can't ignore the truth. And the truth is, mum was beautiful and tropical.

Dad used to say too bad fruit don't have a use by date stuck on 'em cause they sure as hell go off. Strange thing is, mum hasn't gone off, she just mutated into a lemon – don't ask me how. Touch her and she'll spit acid in your face dad says. I wish I knew her when she was still tropical.

Back in her mango days, she gave birth to a fruit salad. And when we lost our freshness, she said if I had known there was a use by date on fruit salad, I would not have given birth to you stinking pieces of useless shit. We must have inherited her genes cause that would explain how fruit can mutate into shit, just like when a mango becomes a lemon.

Originally, my brother was born a banana, his skin yellow and thick. He's a good kid cause even when he goes bruised and brown on the outside, he'd still edible on the inside. My sister is an orange, full of vitamin C and orange sweetness but I'd be careful not to pierce her skin if I were you. She can be just as bitter as my mum. And me? I'm the plastic wrapping on the bowl.

Made in Australia by a middle aged refugee in a garaged at the back of her three bedroom house in suburbia.

Do Not Tumble Dry as the thread at each hem, cuff and join was mindlessly cut by the seamstress's three children, each of whom would fume at the wasted labour when your shirt is shrunk, unwearable and discarded.

Hand Wash Only as she does for the delicate garments her children wears, even though this topples her over after sewing for 10 hours a day.

100% cotton, as 100% as the love she has for her children – the same love that drives her to work herself into a sad lonely insanity in a garage at the back of her three bedroom house in suburbia.