The Walls

We wiped down the walls to remove the tobacco shadows

from all the cigarettes you smoked after dinner

when we’d sit around and you’d tell us your stories.

 

We filled in the holes and removed

any impressions of the pictures you’d hung;

the photos of our school days, holidays, birthdays,

the portraits of innocent times,

ignorant of mortality.

 

A coat of paint, a neutral beige,

now muffles all the whispers of the life we had,

back when you’d tuck us in at night

and tell us you loved us.

 

After the sale we’ll divide the proceeds

according to your will

and go on with our own lives,

in our own separate houses.

 


Published in Door=Jar Issue 9, Winter 2019

A Moment Among Megabits of Data

I took a photo of you with my phone,

caught a particular moment,

but the photo fell into the binary abyss,

lost in the digital fray of ordinary days,

of smart phone functionality –

among megabits of data;

emails & txt messages;

facebook updates & twitter tweets;

among MP3 music; &

apps to access my bank accounts.

 

Months later while sitting in a doctor’s waiting room,

not wanting to watch daytime TV

or read old gossip magazines,

I swipe through my phone,

thumbing my way back through time,

and there you are,

in that moment,

and I wish I could remember

what I did

that made you smile

so much.

 


Published in Door=Jar Issue 9, Winter 2019

Dirty Dancing

They’ve made a stage production

of a movie that was insanely popular

when you were growing up;

the trends of your youth now

have a retro curiosity to them,

like some sort of museum oddity.

 

Your music is now called classic rock &

your favourite albums are referred to as seminal &

when a young band covers one of your old songs &

you sing along your kids look at you strangely &

wonder how someone as uncool as you

could know something that they think is theirs.

 

Records have moved through CD to mp3

but a vinyl collection is to be held in awe

& video became DVD, & now blue, Ray,

but the movies are just remakes.

 

Nintendos are now called Wiis,

Mario has risen bigger than Jesus,

& Apple is the product of choice

for the middle-class edgy set

pretending to be artsy.

 

Now your rock stars are suffering from

old people ailments or reforming

for reunion retirement fund tours.

Bowie & Cohen, Prince & George Michael

all rang out their final chords.

 

Your favourite hangouts

have now been taken over by

cliché hipster cafés

selling pretentious single origin drinks

but you can’t smoke or joke about

how contrived their record collection is.

 

One day they might

make a stage production of your life –

a black comedy

directed by John Hughes.

 


First published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017

 

The Frequency of God is Here

My first collection, The Frequency of God, is now available for sale through the following outlets…

AU

Amazon
Angus & Robertson
Fishpond

US

Amazon
Barnes & Noble

UK
Abe Books

 

Prices vary depending on retailer, Fishpond appears cheapest in Australia and is offering free postage, same with Barnes & Noble in the US and Abe Books in the UK.

I’ll keep you posted as other retailers come on board.