smoke

Christmas eve

bushfire smoke

sits in pits

of lungs flown

far away

the fight

still fluttering

ragged

animal fear

resides

human organs

overlaid

by today’s

hotgreen grass-smell

of primary school T-ball

in Lynden Park

can’t tell sometimes

sweat from tears from dew from bore water from

precious reservoir

can it be spared?

Saved?

Me? I am free

on knees

taller than trees:

to all of thee

Christmas merry x

 

Photo: Claire Doble

Empty Words

all the words have been used

I’m just making biscuit-ends

from scraps of pastry

language left behind

don’t want to waste it

can’t say or write

anything new so I

bake it lukewarm and then

gorge on

empty calories

and press up the crumbs

on wet fintertips as

thick clouds of ideas

stifle my mind but

when

they drift

from my mouth

they’re the thin smoke

of banned cigarettes