Off the Cuff 24: Driving East & Earthenware

APAD 24    prompt: an evening poem

Driving East

Sun behind us only
briefly dazzles in mirrors.
We have counted
four hawks hovering
and wonder whether
they're fixed on
mouse or lizard.

Now the sun retires -
through pastel light the birds -
magpies, black birds, galahs in pairs
swiftly, silently aim for shelter
in blackened bushes, trees.

We continue crossing
their paths, our eyes
fixed on town lights,
white lines, other vehicles
the future, the darkness
beyond headlights.


Earthenware

The more disguised you are
the more functional you become.
I pick you up, weigh the value
your fragility, capacity to bear
loads, temporary or long-term.

At thirty years old, you, clay pot
hold firm, still shining, still unchipped.
In you I placed the small statue
a cross-legged tobacco seller
whose brittle limbs broke off.

Protection: like a mind which draws
a curtain around experience, the pieces.
I make good use of mugs, bowls, pots
for plants, all made in China or by
craftspeople around this country.

Clay pots with obvious origin
in hands, from women gathering
at roadsides, sitting on one hip
on the ground in a group, holding out
their wares, are another species.

Made to earn money for education
they bear the future for all women
all families whose hunger rises
like steam on an outdoor wood fire
where there is nothing to eat.

When it rains here in my country
is that steam, evaporated, watering
my verdant garden, its herbs
growing from clay, mulched to
prevent  being baked hard, glazed?

NaPoWriMo  24

Off the Cuff 20: Night Driving & Storm

APAD 20    prompt: looking back, or not


Night Driving
1. Looking Back

Side-mirrors blind
as faster drivers
approach to pass.
I swivel the mirror
then can't see
to pass another myself.
Automatic, this
backward-looking:
rear vision/side/ and
a quick glance back
through the window
just to make sure.
It's like skating, or
roller-blading

this dance of heavy trucks
small sedans, taxis
vans, motorcycles,
hot hoon models
and thundering off-road
vehicles on the roads &
the Westgate Bridge.
All of us looking back
peering forward
looking back
either in defence
or attack.

2. Looking Forward


From the top of the bridge
a landscape of coloured lights
a screen of dots, some
steady, some mobile.


From here, the peak hour rush
surges, tail-lights taking
the bends; the effect
is of blood, sluggish

in places, thinning and
quickening the further
we flow along this western
artery, this jugular vein.

The beautiful swerve of us!
The vibrant dashing of cells!
The rich blood-red we are!
Going home for dinner.


Storm

Same bridge, a different journey.
An umbrella of black cloud.
A war being fought, shells
exploding, flashes of -we hope-
friendly fire, white light not quite
the protective spirit we desire.

This bridge is a long, high arch
workmen in and under it often
make it slow going. Tonight, no
nonsense: this rain means business.
Drops like arrows attack windscreens
splatter into blots, clatter against metal.

We drive half-blind in the war
of worlds turned against us, united
in our intention to get through this
to get past the enemy, to survive
the onslaught. It's only rain! Rejoice!
But the racket deafens us.


NaPoWriMo 20