Let’s go look at the possum in the bin!
We saw Dale eat a sandwich out of there
Hey, if you were a Transformer
Would you be a Mack or a Kenworth?
Dancing on chalked up foothpaths
Legs and arms on a string
Sprayed with a shot of freckles
Feverish dandelion hair.
My dad says your dad drives a Holden.
My mum’s bringing home KFC after work.
What one? Family bucket. Lucky.
Why did Miss Ford yell at Dale again?
Filigree of dust on glue on skin
Mucilage of grime-edged hands
Blue and orange veins of texta
The magic of glitter under fingernails.
My oldest sister is househunting.
She says real estate agents are arseholes.
And prices are bloody horrendous.
Then she said the C word.
Love lights up their collar bones
Precious knees, careful ankles.
Sleek joy whirls in a swinging bag
Turns; sings out like a clarinet; runs to me
Runs to me.
Today's poem is based on suggestions from four peeps:
- @pinknantucket: "how about using the word 'mucilage'?" (I do believe this is the first time I've used the word 'mucilage', ever!)
- @1000yearsago: "househunting :\"
- @realnixwilliams: "holdens! no, fords! (or the east gippsland logging equiv: mack! no, kenworth!"
- @MJPhotographer: "light love"
But also based on me eavesdropping on kids outside a primary school while they waited to be picked up. Kids are awesome.