Secular-architecture city
light-blasted against the sky,
tin-and-timber houses perched
on spindle-shanks, waiting to fly,
mangroves sucking up the tide,
unfurled freeway, windscreen wide,
West End's jasmine spices heat
stir jagged in my mind...
I re-enter the biosphere of broken
lives, misshapen dreams, where minds
were bent like reeds beneath their
fantasies; glimpse former selves,
personae Gauguinesque, the shadows
luminescent toxic fauve; around
each corner I expect to meet my-
self when young, my daughter...
River serpentine, khaki
in almost psychedelic light,
where ghosts of battles are refought
on that old killing-field, the heart.
I let them come, these images
that ride this freeway endlessly,
I cannot check them,
so I let them come...
Hometown Freeway Blues
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103021600372
Свидетельство о публикации №103021600372
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