A smouldering grid on a cypress stand
Watchman In the Orchard
A roof away
over spare tiles stacked like heaven’s stumps
the big old gum’s galleries are restless
with an easterly off the escarpment,
a newborn galaxy of green fireworks.
Woodchimes clack a reverie against the breeze,
the click of parrots sourcing plums.
Beak down, intent, a scrivener’s index finger,
a currawong probes autumn light like laid sheaves.
Its stolid derrick kowtows
to tiny packets of emolument under twigs and leaves
strewn like discarded toys around the trunk.
Watching from the porch, I wonder
what it would be like
to have that knowledge, that indifference,
sassy as its yellow eye
creasing whole suburbs down along their streets,
the faultline’s bulwark seams
folding inwards into certainty,
centred as a grub.
No dream emerging from its soft case
is ever forgotten. Midnight waters
of such sweetness
that to drink them in the neon light’s thin frost
is to secrete them forever.
So why
does the past eddy like a river
between storehouses gapped like crosswords
a crystal flash in a rose window
a movie projected too slowly,
unjoined between frames?
As if that lad, having stepped so lightly
into the story, was sent to retrieve the arrows
but dawdled, couldn’t make out what they were calling,
and unable to find them,
failed to return.
And then
my eyes decipher what my heart has already noticed:
you have entered the room behind me
your shoulder a contour of sunlight’s tiny explosions
its rays a flying buttress of completion.
There, that moment —
that must be the gauge, a spirit level
marked off by what is opened or closed,
what is crimped, clenched, burdened
or unfurled, circles in close, bearing outwards
along longitudes hung from the morning moon’s sextant
new coastlines of experience
like bits of string dropped onto ancient maps
I will navigate them
nomad of the soft cities
digging at time’s dwindling reefs
appealing the drilled stars
unheard as the fruit that falls
in this endless orchard.
​
Australian Catholic University Poetry Prize Chapbook 2017