Date: 08-Apr-10
Author: Luke Whitington
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Later fishing boats will spill light
Like lanterns pouring magic over the water
Stars begin their dance in scratching eucalyptus
A line of street lamps blinks alive
Pilgrims climb in orange along the rise.

Slow lights cross the sky
Coming in from Singapore
Spiders in the night are riding the wind
Stretching their cobwebs from far away as China.

Too much time under the sun today
Mind jammed in my jaw
I listen to the immense auditorium
Cockatoos and kookaburras
Cackling, screeching a widening circumference
around my shrinking planet;
the veranda, hedged in now with a thicket
of gargling bills and beaks of sound -
On the distancing curve of the world I watch
a sinking schooner, the sunset sliding under -

2.

You have fallen asleep in your chair
turning away from the argument
the headland blackly reviews
my earlier choice of words -
I stare at your lissom brown legs,
your dishevelled arms -
a curl tossed across your brow --
The fronds of dark palms crackle
Scattering thoughts like renegade ink
Words of doubt write themselves across the dark
The end. No good. No hope. It's over. Never would have worked.
Her shoulders shudder, whatever, as she smiles into her sleep,
smirks again at the cleft in my proud stubborn heart.

Luke whitington.