The pots are still dropped and pulled at 4 am,
but no-one fishes near seal rock for weeks, out where the shadows
of sharks and seals are interchangeable.
in the presence of a photo of
your mother, aged twenty three
her hands folded and covered in glitter
her hair long and black
A quiet night in the square,
taxis parked with their side-lights on
and engines cut, drivers
muttering under a fuzzy streetlamp.
The woman’s hands
are tied behind her back –
her hands are not allowed
to speak for her.
The interrogator lays his More
Three bluetongues reside in our steep bush garden
of sandstone ledges and the stumps of fallen trees.
One is content to doze under a rock while around her
everyone c More
Her mother remembers how in the end
she died of third-degree burns from a kitchen fire,
and she can’t get over it, the cup of tea
The springing point was where they took off from,
where the impost, set on good footings,
joined the arch and assured its leap and span
of water’s bei More
Nothing is whiter,
like clouds with the sun inside them.
Nothing is smoother,
like clouds and the moon beside them.
I was reading a poem in that upstairs sunlit room
when I looked up and thought I s More