In today’s Poet’s Corner, Rory Harris of Adelaide gives some more bygone views of suburbs, kin and childhood.
wrap
the bird, maybe
a sparrow
wrapped its claws
around the overhead line
& as kids
we would go inside
You might like
the closest house
& turn on a light
& return to the street
electric with excitement
expecting to see
a body of feathers
fall fluttering death
on a street we believed
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would last forever
garden
your son & my daughters
can strip all the green
tomatoes from their bushes
in one afternoon
it takes a little longer
for your husband to leave
find a lover & move in
but only just
Rory Harris teaches at CBC Wakefield Street, South Australia.
Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.