Stephen Gilfedder: ‘Carnies’ and ‘Cornelius in the Lingerie Factory’

Carnies

The dark was coming on
When we reached our destination,
The sweep of beach where even
Close on dusk the streaming
Wetsuits of the surf school
Pulsed like beacons in the swell.

On the rise above the sand
Caravans and a skeleton
Of the Big Top laid out on sawdust,
Guy ropes being raised by types
As leathery as the old bank managers
Forever walking on the tideline.

The performers were making up
In shadow play in backlit caravans,
As low tide became a line
Of phosphorescence, cigarettes flickering
In the dunes, murmurs from the shapes
Of hoodies, just living in the moment.

Heading back to the weekender,
Boards on top the crazy Kombi,
My son gives a magic send-off
To the carnies edging the tent upright,
Spinning wheels, grinning back at us
Clowning in a floodlit sideshow alley.

Stephen Gilfedder

Cornelius in the Lingerie Factory
Flinders Lane, Melbourne, 1955

Just off the boat and only
Man on the floor, the young
Dutchman works the press
Surrounded by Calabrian women
Giving him the evil eye.
At smoko, they titillate the boy
By holding up bras and panties
Against their voluminous black dresses
While dancing the Tarantella.
When the boss calls in the afternoon
And sits with the order book
In the glass booth, Cornelius
Strides between the rows
Of sewing machines shouting orders,
Pretending not to notice behind his back
The sniggers of “Il Duce”, limp fascist
Salutes and Maria’s falsetto echo
Through a stocking-puppet Punchinello.

Stephen Gilfedder