Friday, December 31, 2010

Moving


Grey spills traced back and pinned
high on a bark collage. Janet gave me that,
and a lettuce of mulberry nudes from an evening class. Paperclip
bellies for the kids who have gone. Pumpkin seed
roads winding into a grove of feathers. A Bicentenary
transfer scraped from a windscreen, faded
to gossamer. I hardly see
Captain Cook commanding the sailor to stop
firing on the natives. Drawn back from an instinct
to chuck out the lot,
Janet piled-up the cardboard boxes
in the carport and let us rummage through.
A card missing a deck winked up and down: a time killer
for a Sunday drive up north.
The blankets that smelt like milk
and the exercise book with one letter in it.
I took some of it home and ordered it
across the rug. And if you looked
long enough… Tomorrow, I’ll chuck it out.

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