Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009
No Mother and No Child
Because the fourth world is a little too far.
Stepping out into the crazy sun
Where my irises are bloomed to the pure unadulterated truth.
One fast blink and its gone. BacktoLackofTruth.
Pop the hood and take a look. S'ok?
OK we drive and drove till I couldn't see anymore.
I mean, I literally couldn't see.
I suppose that's what old feels like.
Typing verbs into a lightbox and I have a beautiful thought.
Its canny wings stretch the room, feathers relax to the floor
And I am held in the eye of the storm.
The beauty melts into gold flecks that I pocket.
I walk out into the naïve street.
A friend waits for me at the corner.
Taken by the hand, doubletaken by a suit, and
I am told to dressquicklywe'regoing.
This is no mother and I am no child.
She leaves a trail of popped pills behind her.
I open my mouth to exclaim and wonder but
I am shushed and hoiked.
We step over Europe.