tough case for a young detective by Jill Dorrian

Barbies wear muselet helmets

Sherlock journals clues

Cricket-stump bin clinks dismissal

Bread is hard with mouldy middle

Cheese is soft with tinted velvets

All in greens and blues

Newspapers a carpet curtain

Other signs of note

Sinks drain-weary, veiled by dishes

Door blocked from unseen militias

Ashtrays strain with liquid burden

Mangled ends afloat

Late-night fry exudes lard landslide

Interesting leads

Window signs of blunt force impact

Latches show no signs of contact

Perpetrated from the inside

Casual misdeeds

Bottles strewn with empty glasses

Evidence galore

Christmas tree is snapped, now supine 

Couch chair at confusing incline

Wasting roast potato passes

Solo on the floor

Shrouded dark in grown-up questions

Case remains unsolved

Pre-teen sherlocks are defeated

Unaware that help is needed

Claiming all adult transgressions

Guilelessly involved

Knowledge comes with maturation

Young gumshoe, take heart

Heavy is the comprehension

Adulthood in wise dimension

Toughest form of education

Living will impart

Trauma is by drink upstaged

Of subterfuge beware

Brace yourself for understanding

Bottle is a sly red herring

Denouement is disengaged

You won’t find it there

Life perspective is revealing

Sooner follow pain

Core of more investigation

Drink was only compensation

Obfuscating tricky healing

Alloyed with the leaden feeling

Undiscovered chain

You were just a fledgling hawkshaw

Grant yourself some grace

Rest the blame that you digested

Drop the anger you invested

Hopping off the guilt-rage seesaw

‘Case closed’ in its place


“Before my dad died in 2008, he generously gave me permission to write about him. He knew I was asking to share a story laden with stigma and shame. His close and troubled relationship with alcohol had been with him throughout his life. His time on earth was rounded off by a five-year, whiskey-fuelled, health and safety adventure. Trying to make sense of the experience, the psychology professor that I am, the first piece that I wrote was for a medical journal (Dorrian J, 2010. Alcoholism: disease or symptom? The challenges of managing advanced alcoholism and chronic illness. Medical Journal of Australia, 192,11: 661-662). I also wrote several poems that became songs. I ‘trashed’ them because I wasn’t clear on whether I was telling dad’s story, or mine. More than a decade later, I find myself engaging in more sense-making. I have rediscovered these poems in the process. I wonder whether they will resonate with others.”

Jill Dorrian (she/her) lives and works on Kaurna Country. Jill is a psychology professor who usually writes scientific articles. She plays violin and loves music and poetry.
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Uncooked by Katrina Lemaire