Drawing by Judith Wolfe
Les Wicks

Poem


      POOL

      Even though sometimes
      the ugly tin
      aboveground hump in every
      western suburbs tract housing back yard.

      Even though the picture
      of local council stalinist infrastructure
      with long rows of militarily undressed teenagers.
      That visceral bite of chlorine as you dive across
      freeway-marked lines of swimmers.

      Sometimes the space beneath
      a modest waterfall -
      the bubbling contusion of water carving
      sandstone as it flows.
      The sun is trimmed to filigree by overhanging gums,
      small fish brown with life
      & the bush's tiny flowers
      (in close up extravagant in their colour/
      worshipped by birds & insects).

      The water parts to calloused hands
      mouth lets go troubled breath
      then you are cradled & deep
      in the Australian heart.


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