Poetry

Tempe Dump

Tempe Dump   I always thought the showdown would be sudden, Convulsive as a bushfire triple-jumping A roadway where some idiot Green council Had forbidden the felling of gum trees, And so, with no firebreaks to check its course, The fire rides on like the army of Attila To look for houses where the English Garden Is banned, and there is only the Australian garden, With eucalypts that overhang the eaves And shed bark to ensure the racing flames Will send the place up like a napalm strike.   Instead, it’s Tempe Dump. When we were small My gang went…

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