In a city of shirtless men?
He stands at the mangroves edge,
Fire failing behind him,
Wife asleep, cask empty.
Maybe go for a walk, see his country.
Night black but for a splash
Of spilt milk - whitey claiming the sky.
Lights along the road where
He used to feel his way in the dark.
This whole town now one big car park.
Bare feet on bitumen,
Sign says Botanic Gardens:
He needs to lie down,
Feel grass under his head.
So he sleeps under a big old tree,
Dreams of serpents fighting brolgas,
Their eggs split into three.
Wakes with the sun to see white men
Strolling fat, shirtless and free.
© shaun patrick green 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment