To play
Catch a face before it slidesfrom the plate. Screw in
an unblinking eye. Into onecorner hammer a tent peg
so a smile flaps butholds good. Now shrug on
an amorphous coat. Hurry.No. Panic won't make for fast-
buttoning; think reattachinglead to dog, lock-picking,
wire-cutting. The fork-handeasy but the truculent right:
a fist, a nest of magnets fromwhich you pry the index out
and fit it the length of thatsilver spine, while those
around you spill the loaded die.
Coffee
I make a point of coffee latelyto slip the house or breakthe day.
At the counter my first wordis the wrong foot.
But I make myself understoodand pocket change,straightforwardly, natural.
A thank-you comes from distance.
I have my book and my strategiesand time.
The park
When I feel the day is turning,I go — without a dog or child —to pray and walkthe corridors of light and shade.
Bees are bumping along the hedgesand birdsong cluttersthe upper air. The scrunchof gravel, distracts, places me — here.
Aidan Coleman's poems have previously appeared in the Australian Literary Review, The Weekend Australian, The Age, Southerly, Island, Antipodes, The Warwick Review and Westerly. His new book of poems Asymmetry is published by Brandl & Schlesinger this year.