Fremantle
2018
He
warns me that I will burn
easier
here than in Europe.
Points
to the night sky
and
confides there is a hole.
With
diplomatic cowardice
I
refrain from admitting partial responsibility.
I
helped to make it.
Forty
years ago I was employed
in
the negative alchemy
of
turning brine into caustic, hydrogen
and
chlorine [the basis of all CFCs],
the
side effect of which,
half
a world away,
is
this hole in the sky.
There
are better legacies.
This is autobiographical, you can read another poem about those days here.
The second poem relates again to Australia.
straight
out of a horror film
the
bird hit the window
it
is dead
by
the time I get there
eyes
blank
cooling
as
I bury it
the
sound of flesh impacting on glass will not leave my head
Here is The Red Telephone.
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