I have climbed all day
through mountains of paper
sunshine speaks through pines
students are at the café
getting greasy hands from paper
some dine alone
I planned a celebration with a famous author
that is now undone, no fault, no one to blame
it was fine to be lost in the celebration
visions of smiles at the cottage door
a car wending its way
like some learned gesture
into the amber light
people leaning, nibbling cake
shoulders in another room
fixing coffee cups, lifting forks
to fame a novel’s worth
then those tiny lights began to flicker
wheels began to grind
fate rocked its sinister song
and the Ferris wheel stopped
Helen Hagemann, Joondalup, Western Australia 5/9, 9.00pm
>From: Alison Croggon <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: Poetryetc provides a venue for a dialogue relating to poetry and
> poetics <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: Snapshots
>Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2001 22:01:17 +1000
>
>the yellow light of evening when you are around it
>like a cowl of arms so mothering so fastly
>breathing there is barely time for eyeblink or the
>caught rag of gesture black against windowlight
>
>a child who'll remember this once a baby and now
>reaching into adulthood but not as you already are
>
>nostalgia seeping through
>the present with its death already happening
>woven around you a cloak of feathers blurring
>the terrible poise of joy
>
>Alison Croggon
>Melbourne, Australia, 9.56
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