Funeral

Tears tease my face –

Pressed into my hand –

Propped by an elbow

On a window frame.

Cars pass steadily

as Dandenong Rd comes

and goes like an old mate

Familiar but much changed.

Arriving early –

I take in the stillness

And silence –

The smell of the heat wave

the creaking pews

Under slow steps

The church – erect

Stifling

In it’s repression

Fills with the muffled sound

Of subdued people.

And suit jackets stay on

Despite the heat, which

Causes a steady sweat to

Drip the length of my back

As I watch the front rowers

And see that they don’t feel

Like it is quite real

And it is,

But it isn’t too –

And I cry passively

As we stand and sigh

Simultaneously.

A message from a Southerner

Bring back the old days:

When we had progress going for us

Idealised hope for inclusivity

Cos we knew more and thought more

And saw the world of difference and embraced it

And I was sorely mistaken:

I thought you embraced me

Yet your arms fell to your side

and my body slipped away

And I fell hard

like I just found out

Santa was fake

Because you believed that

Social liberalism was code for

Self serving ignorance –

And I couldn’t unsee the irony

The Diplomatic Post

Sleep-ins foil good intentions

As the sun gives rise and

servitude to Christmas Day

I flick the kettle on and spy

The sacrificial honeyed ham

In an overloaded fridge

That strains to cool the

Offerings that hours later

Will fill a lace tablecloth

And the good plates

And the Tupperware

And landfill

And…

My spiral into chaos

Is caught by a ringtone

On the house phone

Giving rise and promise

With eager small talk

A trademark exchange of

Familiar voices rejoicing

And ‘passing you on’ –

The result of years of

Love not habit, that

You’d be forgiven

For thinking was obligation

Not heartfelt desire

On the day of too full

Bellies expanding on family

Marking off another year

Of unspoken, blinding fear

That despite the odds

And by diplomatic virtue

Adoringly refine and

Endearingly define us.

First crack at broken

Delivered hard,

In short words,

And long pauses.

To my surprise

She’s caught me:

Full headlights

Frayed rope

Doe eyes and

Misplaced passion.

A photogenic instant,

Outside of any comfort:

My abandoned hope

A heated cattle prong

A silent fear, this swan song.

That I think will end me.

I want to hear ‘I love you’

In hot breath on my ear,

When I ask her what is wrong?

And she says ‘nothing’

Head cocked mockingly

She tells me that

I ‘look alright side on’.

Whether

Like mildew on leather I was musty with trust That antecedent Precursive verse – Of the unknown: We laughed, I was laughing Weathering busty stances A rocking horse A silhouette The shadows danced As shadows do Must settling Trust too Like angel dust On every surface.

Unsated

A construct of exchange is in my pocket They say it burns a hole and so it seems It scorches the landscape of my fingers And as I deftly touch count the amount Of loose change I have for an ‘avo’ on toast’ I come across a scene you couldn’t dream of. And I realise […]

Six Pack

A six pack of Canadians On the side of the road One can out and open He gently lays it down And straightens to walk With an uneasy swagger His tobacco red fingers On tobacco grey beard And on his face anger I grudgingly approach And our eyes meet So I nod and he smiles […]