by Ian G Graham.
I look up
down and around
for the child I knew now gone.
Shock and surprise was profound
as heaven left my infancy
growing caused uneducated guesses
spawned by tearful accidents
tears swallowed in fears
in a world accented with the senses
elders looked on with forlorn hope.
I look in
out and about
for the youth who challenged the world.
When Jilly rode me flat in her green 1963 FJ Holden
that hit the road with its bumper every time we came to a bend
and the cops pulled us over and checked my back pocket
to see if I’d burgled the local church
and stolen the Holy Grail
I said I had NOT knowing full-bloody-well
I had with its contents of wine rolling around in my belly.
I look over
under and wonder
for the man who said I can do and I will.
Hunting for gold in an old mining ghost town
under a tin sheet in the desert of bright red dirt
while old ghosts hide in old thirsty trees
watching us from twisted old branches make love
in a world that had no place in our heaven.
I look close
near and far
searching for truth in the dust of a star.
A red dwarf?
A white dwarf?
A super-nova to be?
Or me in the corner of a luminous dog’s eye?
Mother wine sings loud with silent lips
I’m enfolded in her lyrical chant and red-gaze.
I look to see
If he’s here or there
but it seems he’s never anywhere
To sleep perchance to dream and dream and….
a life lived to host a cover
of lifespans, larger
life lived to mute and diminish life, smaller
as her guests we lovers often fail to shift
with the coaxing of our suffocated chants
faint echoes across the dark night of… discordance.