tongue

tongue

Co-written by Janet Jackson and myself using a poetry magnet kit

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a smoke ring circles the sun
beneath we burn

my loving friend

hands me ripe figs

torn open

flesh the colour of

my broken sex

crawled into bed

head cradled

in a lightless corner

of night

One for Di

After the goodbye
we all drank tea
together at your house.
Had nothing to say.
It seemed as if
we were no longer friends.

I went home
folded myself away
between the silk scarves
                 and the socks.

16 February 2012

bees push through fringes of blossom

wings spanned bee eaters

balance on morning light

mudlarks march uniformed

on patrol

tails up heads down

galahs at work on the oval

plastic bags arrested against the fence

rolls of wire slubbed on the creek bank

night shift workers play tennis before bed

pok-pok

pok-pok

pok-pok

POK!

In the country

Before I went to the shop I found a book of dreams

curled in my letterbox.

When I read it the corners of my eyes prickled.

Tears rolled out and surprised me.

Walking to the shop I looked up and saw the clouds had written an L

— the first initial of the book’s author.

At Coles a customer

wrote down the name of a friend.

for the I AM IN TRAINING PLEASE BE PATIENT check out girl

to look up on Facebook.

No one minded.

I live in the country.

On my way out I saw two firemen going in

and an old man with his shoe laces undone.

He combed his hair and put the comb in his back pocket.

In the car park the fire truck took up at least four bays.

It advertised a $50,000 reward to dob in an arsonist.

Crows call out at any time of day.

Every afternoon

a trickle of discharged water runs through the car park into the drains.

I like to walk beside it.

Step over it.

Let my eye rest in its silver wet.

It’s dry-dry-dry in the country.

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January summer
holiday month
daylight dogs howl

roadside communion

crows drink blood
take eat
in chorus sing
karked karked karked