Tuesday, March 12, 2013

morning of my birthday

          first awake
          first awake
          first awake

on the morning of my birthday
earphones whisper news
backdrop low grey cloud
only sounds
crow galah car
crumpled snore 
the need to clean teeth

on the morning of my birthday
i was screaming
         screaming in my sleep

Sunday, March 10, 2013


my cousin graveside began to slip… my mother and I caught  her… one on each arm… held her upright on the carpeted ground… she threw red roses into her mother’s grave… my mother and I threw rosemary and lavender stolen from strangers’ gardens… tied with ribbons cut from our clothing… a baby laughed — waved a fat white fist at the rolling sky… the grandsons lowered my aunt into her white sand grave… my uncle’s ashes went with her…  unmentioned … it was Mum’s day her second child said … afterwards as we had homemade cakes and sausage rolls prepared by the Anglican Ladies… they stood at the servery window and smiled as we ate…

at the wet dry interface
wind builds sand grains into dunes
waves lick the beach into hard dark wrinkles

Tuesday, March 5, 2013


a few olive leaves
cast shadows
over the garage door
chinese characters
they might read
or entering autumn