Monday, October 18, 2010


23. a poem that takes place at a public gathering

Fed Square Saturday Arvo

the sun carves the pink Kimberley stone slopes
into black and yellow territories

a river that knocks like wood on wood, tumbling
trees on river stones, wends its way through shade

a sparrow ignores the sound of blood pounding
the pavement thicker than water

small movements, much noise 

out in the sun, even if you aren't a bird, the thing
to do is perch and pretend you're not watching

i am watching and writing it down in deep shade
waiting for lunch, something to peck

a cold wind jeers and tells me i should move
away from this al fresco table

i do, with lunch, too chewy and stringy
but spiced and warming, i'm happy

three seagulls wheel in and around in sunshine
one chases the other two away and surveys

the kingdom it's won from the peaks of a group
of big white shade umbrellas

there is a giant photo album staring down at us
from the opposite wall, above bmw edge

it's a counteraction to all that stabbing
and bad press - our indian community

can feel safe now, so large, so out of reach
safely, so yellow and red, dancing and smiling

in the face of it, the ponds and tides
of humanity gathered here, in fed square

on a sunny saturday arvo, almost becoming spring

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