MY DOG

Soldier bit me.
Soldier picks me up.
Soldier is my dog.
I don’t want to go home.
I want to finish my big hole.
I don’t like Soldier any more.
Soldier is big.
Soldier is boss.
Soldier bit me on my collar.
Soldier always bites my collar.
Soldier made me come home.
Soldier is a bad, bad dog.
I hit Soldier on the head.
Soldier made me come home.
Soldier always makes me come home.
Daddy, please tell Soldier not to
carry me.
Soldier is not
an obedient dog.
He won’t do what I say.
Give Soldier a spanking.
Soldier thinks he is boss.

My Dad laughs.
My Dad says, “Good dog Soldier”.

I have danced
in the womb
in the soft
womb of earth
I have entered the circle
I have been renewed
My belly is filled
my hear beats
to the rhythm
I shall green
I shall go forth
over the red land
I shall eat
I shall enter her daughters
My children will be born
to honour
for I have danced
in the womb
in the soft red womb

These are my sisters
the name-givers
the walkers
the sisters have given name
to the birds
to the snake
to all running things
to all things that crawl
and the sisters
threw spears and the food that they ate
was named
was made sacred
Our sisters dug earth
and named the roots
and the roots roots
were made sacred

I walk in the footsteps
of my sisters
I am filled

Photograph sitting on a ledge



She smiles over a mug of coffee

A glass

empty and transparent

are there no marks?

She sings a magpie



She is singing

the magpie

Where is the pen

stroking white paper?

Why is he drinking

out of a delicate

china cup?



I am a small

square pane of glass

looking at you

looking

through me



Parents



When I was old enough

to learn about genes

I wanted

to sort them neatly

into two piles

and take only the ones

that were his


Of course

I wasn't successful

and the older I get

the more obvious it

becomes: I

took the wrong

pile









Dry season





I've read and written

all this long afternoon

Drought seems forever



I know flood waters lie

over tops of bushes

in desert places



I try to believe

a city by the sea

can soak rain



into her bones

when winter comes









Last evening



The evening swallows gather and dance

a strange wide-circling sweep against the sunset

I watch and wait

wait for birds to gather close along the window.



Did your winged spirit join as birds were lifted on the wind?





The room is silent save for burbling machines.

I watch, hold your hand, and tell you.

Do you hear me through the pain?



When jacaranda blooms should I go again to the window?

Will I find comfort in the movement of tiny birds

or rest in their resting?





Do windows here keep spirits in or out?

I wait watching myself

waiting.



The Recall





A dark moon shadow falls on white snow

she hears no sound

but knows

that one day darkness will not hide

what she no longer wants

to know



The shadow tells her

tonight

that it is time to go back



through all those far places where her

longest

shadow fell at midday



The scent of pine trees

ringed around her

where she could not cry out

or

tell what it might be

that frightened

her

Dream

I spend my hours
waiting

I do not know what I am waiting for
not as I did when young
and waiting
a phone call for a new job
or train to someplace ?

Waiting is now
for the inevitable
How time
will come
and how?
On soft paws? Will he make prints
on newly painted walks?

Will I know when time has come
or will I be in some strange silent place.
walled in?

Will he spider across the floor
reach me in silence?

I am no working these warm days, my eyes grow weary quickly.
something has been eating the impatiens.
I am neither impatient not hurried.

Everything is slow.
There are no fishes in stagnant pools.
Fish give sustenance but I no longer need to feed.
I rest in aging rock .