In recognition of the history and culture of this land, I acknowledge and pay respects to the traditional owners and custodians of lutriwita, their elders past, present and future.
Flood Proof
the flood passes me by
in a grunge run down the valley
drenched bandit
gathering its flotsam
sunlit starlit litter
the foreshore is a velodrome to lost particles
we are told not to touch
the sea foam
so fizzy
its bubbling froth
is pure sewage
the tide creeps back in shock and shame
blood line stuck in a rip has had a gut full
downdrift pitches to a silver floating tone
shifting the microplastics
bloated cattle carcass
exclaims its grief in the shallows
twitched mast of a dinghy
pokes its tongue out
of splintered waters
split hank
of fisherman’s rope lies rotting with fish heads
frayed nerves exposed
a hole gapes in the bridge’s flank
containers dropped like space junk
on rolling bearings
the foreshore has heard this all before
sand bags are fat and heavy
the river bank has gobbled the crops and buried the dead
Publications
This poem is taken from Little Bones in Red Clay and was also previously published in Australian Poetry Anthology 5, and in Ginninderra Press ‘Wild’ anthology.