Poetry

Summerhill Rd

Acorns ago when I was a boy

as full of sap as empty of sense

we lived in an outer suburban house

redgum posts grey paling fence.

Outside the kitchen a gully trap

Mr Hill’s rotary ruled the yard

spidery shed, bolted vegetables

housekeeper Wilsie fried with lard.

Mother worked to keep us afloat

I’d pedal half to school, return

spend the day high in the treehut

Phantom comics, much to learn.

Others had fathers, went to matches

1 had free rein, Gardy Creek to explore

Sally the mongrel, kind Phil the postie

could any Glennie boy ask for more?

Today that outer suburb is inner

Joffa Jukes, Mrs Darbyshire … all dead

Gardiner’s Creek runs in pipes

and the G.I. blues in my head.

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