a creaky old floor near the harbour
stop-start heavy equipment
the grazing window picks up dust on the table
port light and stormy mountain
the rattling of offices, drawers and clicks
the silent bashbashbash, as if it’s important
an odour lingers somewhere between
sandalwood, farmyard and small smoke
and time goes floppy around lunch
after the disagreement on the stair
even normality is hard to jolly along
tempers of an early century are catching
baby birds squeak in a cavity
the trashy foreshore is worn with a muddy green
it’s not pretence but years make it a bit scabby
and rightly so after all that work
Jill Jones
Salamanca Arts Centre, Hobart, snapped 4 April 2005
|