A Riddle.

It is in the bacon fat that is scraped off the trays every evening at 6.30 pm
It is in the chink chink of your grandmother's wine glass
It is in the sting of raw skin in the shower
It is in the awkward thick air between the ugly and the beautiful
It is in the silent g, the silent k, the silent you
It is in the colour of the bathtub
It is in the crackle of panadol
It is in the smell of an empty house
It is in the song of slaughtered dugong sprayed over the dinner table
It is in the hate, the hat, the hair, the hurt.

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