Christine Paice: Three Poems

Blessed and Certain

The most profound and moving experience of my life

was spending time with the body of my father

who had ascended already and was lying unconcerned

in a small room in a brick house in a small town midway

between heaven and earth

lots of parking and good coffee

he lay there a little pale but more relaxed than I had seen him

walls so thick they might have been expecting violent resurrection

uncivil unrest as the dead discover they are dead

the living try to make amends and offer up excuses and small lies

my father spoke even though his mouth was still

he held my shaking hands and said he had been thinking

deeply about this for a long long time

said he was blessed and quite certain

leaving that small room I burst into song I felt I’d seen

the truth of death and was walking forwards to the rest of my life

and all around me spring was falling.

Christine Paice

Broome Moon

Crazy moon red dirt distance on my shoes

the plane was leaving again

and my ears refused to work we bounced

along full of moonshine over the turquoise sea.

My sister used a megaphone to talk to me

in Broome I built a weird driftwood ladder

against a stack of massive clouds

and climbed over Cable Beach waving

to my sister I could vaguely hear her yelling

get down off that ladder.

A giant yellow moon called the huge sea higher.

Still I climbed rung after rung

above red rock dinosaurs hardened feet

above panting heat mad cattle dogs

and Crab Creek turtles glistening eggs

above swirling high tide muddy pools

above sharks and sea snakes casual drift

get down off that ladder—

the swelling surf reached up and helped me down

moonlight’s massive waves baptised

my salt stung crazy skin flung onto the beach

I was shining with new life—my sister said stay

off that ladder you are Australian now.

Christine Paice

Contemplation with Nuns and Ducks

Mighty floor length windows

are looking through me

there is nothing they cannot see—

my miscellaneous spread

creaking on the leather seat

endless sky going nowhere

but back into me

my stomach growls

I eat my lunchtime sandwich

down at the abbey pond

do ducks know they are ducks?

my sultanas float past

in their brightly coloured packet

detached from all reality

glassy water through my empty hands

at the edge of the abbey pond

sunlight strikes the water

a nun flies past me on the tractor

waving

I am in her blind spot but she waves

because she believes I am there.

Christine Paice