THE TOPOGRAPHY OF US
Driving west through the plains
childhood reawakened thoughts
leap between stones crouched
like islands of papier mache
against the torrent of memory
I’d watch the sky to see the moon rise
run away without moving a muscle
know too soon so much of adult ways
innocent icons furled inside
a gram of sentiment like a riddle that
takes the words out of a mute mouth
this tarmac becomes a meditation
Let’s stay. No? just calling in on my way home
to the mountains black-green and hunched
wood fire smoke thick in autumn evening
sadness quickens in the quiet cold as I recall
what I lost – paper bags full to bursting
with tales of treasure – a world
of magic such simple charms
as love, plastic swans and sepia photos
I am the lucky girl who survived.
Adored by you who’d waited so long
for me – too strong to worry about and
too happy to worry – until a cloud
of mourning settled at the grand old age of reason
when you dear storyteller fell silent
leaving me to seek stories on my own
such things happen
when you’re the eldest child
in a family of last-borns.
BETWEEN THE MORPHINED SILENCES
He offers them buried snippets of the past
fleshing out the 2-dimensional figure of
the 1960’s-dad who’d worked 6-days-a-week;
until one day, he’d simply walked out
into what he’d hoped would be his life.
Sans road trips or new projects to distract
he drops his guard to give a final gift
tells them secrets that change their view of the world
and themselves, and then, the old joker returns
at odds in the calm despair of palliative care.
Impatient as ever, this worker-warrior refuses
to live out his time staring out a window
on the leafy North Shore, morphined
and placid in a cot-like hospice bed
and summons his old mate, rage,
at being caught by Death at 56.
One day, obsidian eyes burning, he draws
the resident oncologist to his hunched form
momentarily he straightens
lights a cigarette, draws back, exhales then cauterises
the tube delivering the placating fluid into his veins;
with this act, he consciously breaks free
into what he hopes will be his death.
