Bavarian Aunt
Aunt Lottie had a slow and careful walkevery step could jarthe delicate balanceof the fragile grand pianoshe had swallowed.
It was no ordinary instrumentit was entirely made of crystalwhich added to the fearsof its disturbanceor destructionby the simplest slip or stumbleor missed footing on a step.
It was a slight inconvenienceshe had taken in her stride.Matters concerning the said pianowere only discussed in hushed toneson Wednesday afternoonsand only with her dearest nephew, Ludwigwho sensitively seemed to understandthe precious nature of imaginationand the tickling discomfortsof digested furniture and such thingsas fancy may create.
Worn-down days of winter
In the worn-down days of winterthe night sinks earlyin mallee rooted smoke
The days seep slowlyfrom frosted whitesto saturate with green
The tattered shreds of cloudare barely held togetherby pins of light
A bolt of grey chiffonhas rolled acrossthe counter of the sky
Riding the tides of windwild writhing treesare waves of unleashed energy
Hailstoneslike iced pearl dropand smash to earth granita
This is not Manet's Paris
This is not Edouard Manet's ParisNot that white marble bar, un bar aux Folies-Bergerewith that peachy round, velvet-corseted young womansoft unseen hands of a lacy courtesanon display with the pale pink roses and juicy mandarinsfacing the elegant 19th C chandeliered roomand her gentleman admirers.
No this is Brack's BarMelbourne in the fiftieswhen the Collins Street mobhave knocked offto schooner themselves'til six o'clock and home.
Squared and angular this woman is omnipotentA working mother with dark shadowed eyesshe offers nothing more than serving drinksand mopping up the mess men leave behindworking stoical hands planted on the bar readyready for action, ready for anything, copinggiving nothing but her labourcan't complain, who'd listen?
But those spring poppies playfulin that over ripe womb vasethey are a future hope of things to comealive and real they belong to herand she will take them home
The other side of words
On the other side of wordsbeyond adjectives and metaphorsbeyond the comparisonsand differencesbeyond the actions of verbsand the definition of noun-namesthere, the dead are asleepin a wordless ever-nighta never-light, twilighton the other side of words.
M. L. Emmett is the Convenor of Friendly Street Poets. Her first book of poetry Snatching Time was published by Wakefield Press in 2009. She is an editor and poodle tragic.