Two Poems: 2

Beach cricket with four-year-old

Bat and ball

glow brightest summer yellow.

Mango-yellow; floatie-yellow; Slip’n’Slide yellow.

He loses patience

with hit and miss; prefers

to float them both—

mismatched vessels—

in the long flat lace-wash close to shore.

The water loves its new toys,

drags and tumbles them

never quite letting go.

He studies the shallows, points

at a bubble cluster.

“A galaxy! A galaxy!”

And suddenly the hollow

plastic things are flotsam

adrift on space-time;

an oblong and a sphere,

still loud yellow.

Rocket-flame-yellow; sun-yellow.


Last Orders

Papers say: “The End is Nigh”;

“Carbon Suffocates the Sky”;

“Time is Running Out for Us”

I say: “Pointless, all this fuss”.

Grip a glass or clutch a cup;

down the hatch or bottoms up.

Let the lovely liquid flow;

let us let tomorrow go.

What’s your poison? Make it two:

one for me and one for you.

Scull your grog and take my hand

—“Paddocks Turning into Sand”—

run your fingers through my hair

—“Waters Rising Everywhere”—

let me taste your lips of wine;

show me yours, I’ll show you mine.

Might as well drink deep today;

relish rolling in the hay

—since we’re rooted anyway.

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