(no subject)
The Hill
above the house where I grew up,
a scratched forest of norfolk pines grew too.
giant unplanted things
apartment blocks for birds.
magpies quardle-doodled with their neighbours and
build nests on every level. every
storey. they followed each other from branch to branch.
at the right time of the year we ran
screaming across the wide hill, covering
our heads with neon sunhats, terrified
of cowboys from above, black beaks
and bandits. the dead silence of the sun,
broken with feathers.
lions prowled below, we knew and in the morning
we woke and heard strange cries, birds
from many faraway places, distant gongs.
when we fed black Jack in the evening, we heard
the big cats feeding and their sunset roars.
we had black tarry footprints in the summer,
our soles were tough and hardened with every step.
when it rained we picked our way across the street
shoulders hunched like vultures, we dammed the gutters
with cigarette packs and dead leaves and damned the sun.
mud waterfalled down flecked with cigarette butts and
tin rings from coke cans.
away from the magpie commune, up the hill in
the other direction, we went around and around
and around and around til we reached the highest point of the city.
fireworks burst in front of us and we could touch them, we heard
them with our bodies. we could see picton, we could see australia, we could see -- everything -
it was spread out beneath us. one step away.
above the house where I grew up,
a scratched forest of norfolk pines grew too.
giant unplanted things
apartment blocks for birds.
magpies quardle-doodled with their neighbours and
build nests on every level. every
storey. they followed each other from branch to branch.
at the right time of the year we ran
screaming across the wide hill, covering
our heads with neon sunhats, terrified
of cowboys from above, black beaks
and bandits. the dead silence of the sun,
broken with feathers.
lions prowled below, we knew and in the morning
we woke and heard strange cries, birds
from many faraway places, distant gongs.
when we fed black Jack in the evening, we heard
the big cats feeding and their sunset roars.
we had black tarry footprints in the summer,
our soles were tough and hardened with every step.
when it rained we picked our way across the street
shoulders hunched like vultures, we dammed the gutters
with cigarette packs and dead leaves and damned the sun.
mud waterfalled down flecked with cigarette butts and
tin rings from coke cans.
away from the magpie commune, up the hill in
the other direction, we went around and around
and around and around til we reached the highest point of the city.
fireworks burst in front of us and we could touch them, we heard
them with our bodies. we could see picton, we could see australia, we could see -- everything -
it was spread out beneath us. one step away.