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ARTS AND CULTURE

Revisiting river country

  • 28 November 2016

 

Selected poems

 

River

& the road spiralling outinto a landscape, blurred hum tyre kiss of distancepicking up scents & wash of the River salt & die backfrom when I worked on the landscapean all year sun tan years ago

orange bauble hang of Christmasthis big old River taking its time to irrigate an imagination

gathering in the warming day Chaffey Housemonuments & on the strip of ourselvesdesigner drinks & a lifetime of knockoffsflooding the heart for tourists

high vis workers eat the pub breakfastthe suited travellers have vanishedthe beer taps are closed off

the road & river flatsoranges grow to the vergelooking for swans in Swan Hill

regional galleries& their big ticket items

town after townhugging the curves of water& pulling from it a life

homeware & lifestyle shuttersopen at nine, six days a weekunpacked in the espresso bar

Echuca is a string of hand held familiesin the sun, their floppy hats nodding overice-creams smeared ear to ear

in Bendigo we sit on the bedeating treats from along the roadthe Age is our tablecloth

the ghosts of parents past, promenade the High Streetthey holidayed closer to home& always travelled with a deck of cards& a bottle in the suitcase

a rattling of revisiting a River history

weatherboard wood smoke perfume rugby tops & alla choreographed swing of enterprisethrough the Sunday farmers' markets

hills wrap Castlemainethe trains have stopped running& the fruit & veg is biodynamic & the sky is scattered woolas a child would blow on a dandelion

the familiar is worn like a coatwe bend our shoulders as the rain becomes a River& flows through the gaps of ourselves

 

 

for Jennifer Haynes

& somehowI never picked up

on your noticemaybe our blood had

thinned a littlebut even before your death

silence echoed an absenceas I think you would have

turned inside & gatheredall that had to be done

in the wrap of family& a literature of lists

& delegationof how you wanted it to be

 

 

tree

I can't recall the tree ever being plantedit just was, one day a sapling which just grewsome sort of flowering eucalyptout of place in the front yardamong a willow, ornamentals & daffodilsI don't remember the year of the drought which killed it offbut its stayed standing & deadmaybe fifty foot & brittle for what seemed foreverwith quotes for its removal stuck to the refrigeratorthe old man was never keenmore indifference than costor the indifference of costmum always liked it when it floweredwhen the old man died & house was soldthe buyer knocked it downalong with the old man's housea