|
a plank bed in the gully
and a woman there with
a buckled mouth my hand
plunged deep in her pigfern
turpentine and tea-tree
the sour-smoke smell
of damp coal in the scuttle
and flat beer on the bench
once I stood so tall on
a stolen Triumph
my hair streamed behind
like a thousand freedoms
now I stand two miles
above the flatlanders
screaming so loudly
no one can hear me
earthbound beneath
a high ocean of air
I am a poisoned stream
full of slippery words
sliding underneath a broken
bridge’s collapsed members
her body is heavy and overgrown
her laughter is desperate
already my sons have gone
there is nothing for me here
| 