He Disappeared into a Bottle, Alyssa Byrnes

Artwork by Taylor Amy

He Disappeared into a Bottle was awarded 2nd place in The Quarry – Future Leaders Creative Writing Prize 2020


Some used to talk,
obligation building in the throat;
‘How’s John?’
asked for the sake of asking.
Though they knew,
rather, didn’t know.
Lips pursed in the silence,
discomfort clear in shifting eyes,
hopeful for swift response.

Nieces and nephews knowing they
have an uncle, never really known,
never really knowing who he is.
Vague memories slip, of who
they might have recognised,
once,
at Christmas time, around
an old table,
calloused hands around
a bottle
of something or other, unimportant
/quite important/
comfortable in a rough palm,
a cigarette pinched in the other hand,
and ten years later,
the burnt acid scent reminds us of
a lost uncle,
lost man.

But how lost is lost?
There is an overwhelming
loss
but we know where to look,
most days of the week.
But does he? (Feel lost?)
While we search, at a loss
following empty footprints
round and round.

Drowning deep beneath,
a bottle cap, in
government home,
shaky legs and mess
of teeth and muted TV,
flyblown fruit skins
left on almost bare
benchtops
to rot.

Or not, not
intentionally at least.
So, he forgot,
where they go
where he goes.
Where does he go?
Does he know,
as he wanders,
further from home.

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Alyssa Byrnes

Alyssa Byrnes is a current creative writing student with a focus on poetry at Macquarie University, Sydney. Her work is often free-form and experimental, falling outside traditional ideas in style and subject matter.

Compagnon pour la vie, Alyssa Byrnes

A first date,
suit and tie,
black and white
her name is Adélie.
She stands,
in a beautiful dress,
similar colours across her breast
taking my breath,
we dance.

Pink shoes on her feet,
her laugh so sweet
how fortunate to meet
are we.
Seafood platters,
we waddle, getting fatter
our way back home,
where nothing else matters
but her.

We marry,
the cold winter season,
though no-one was freezing,
we went swimming.
and fishing,
and marched on into living,
together, apart,
we have made our mark,
my lovely wife.

“Did you know that penguins mate for life?”
The words flew from parted lips,
as you watched her hips,
the pancakes she flipped,
sizzled softly.
“For life?”
You heard excitement,
but that’s not what she meant,
nor how things went.

Wedding bells ring,
you recite loving words,
you hope she’s never heard, 
overcome by nerves,
you kiss.
Your heart is afloat, 
honeymoon on a boat
her ‘I do’ means ‘I don’t’.

Years pass, a slow burn,
words leave ugly scars,
from a love written in the stars,
that’s now lost on nights spent in bars,
all gone.
You wonder how,
divorce comforts you now,
life made so foul.

The trap has been set,
the genetic code brings delight,
never do they fight,
knowing this is right;
the feast.
There is no question,
and nothing quite left in,
the skin.

The laws of nature,
allow the quiet romance,
a passionate dance,
they know at a glance,
it’s time.
And so, the night falls,
this time known to all,
for his lover to gorge.

Hungry eyes stare him down,
caressing his face,
rips his head off with great pace,
and devours with haste,
no waste.
The moment was quick,
and with one final lick,
so, on the clock ticks.

Alyssa Byrnes

Alyssa Byrnes is a current creative writing student with a focus on poetry at Macquarie University, Sydney. Her work is often free-form and experimental, falling outside traditional ideas in style and subject matter.