Into the void

With both parents lost,

remembered, buried, nothing

stands between being here

and the edge of not being;

the incline to the unfenced cliff,

the pull of the current

to the cataract.

There were warning signs

of course, but in this time-kept world

there is no pause, no rewind,

and where we once saw

the parent interposed

now there is a clear-felled

view into the void.

Wheel of fortune

When you go with a list of four problems

but the doctor has time for just two,

when you’ve scraped up his fee since last pay day

and there’s scarcely enough left for food,

how does it feel to be bound to a wheel

in a life as surreal as a circus?

When the bruise on your face is less painful

than the shame of which you can’t speak,

when the doctor just offers you Panadol,

then asks you if you still smoke,

how does it feel to be bound to a wheel

in a life as surreal as a circus?

When you wanted to talk of depression

but the kids scream and fight in the corner,

when the din makes it hard to be heard

so you mention instead your sore shoulder,

how does it feel to be bound to a wheel

in a life as surreal as a circus?

From a kayak

The yin and yang

of silver and black

play on the liquid

inlet at dawn

reflection

sliding over tides of thought

a rippling

through ears and eyes

the soft slap and dip

of prow and paddle

finding rhythm

in water and mind

and an easing

but not to make easy

as I work the current

holding a line

past some royal spoonbills

that change legs like a child

needing to pee

glancing to the left

then right

feigning nonchalance

restless for me to pass

in peace