Monthly Archives: May 2012

I hope this ride is free

A taxi driver struggles
to lift a man from his wheelchair
and into the cab.
The man is heavy,
the driver old.
He drops him.
Two bystanders trot over
and assist.
They get him seated.
He drags his legs in,
eyes down,
like this is not the first time
he’s wound up
sitting on a gutter
while the taxi seat beckons,
just out of reach.


Murrumbidgee River


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Private poetry

I took this photo months ago & I’d forgotten about it.


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And at night the sound of gunfire
shapes my dreams,
strobing images of blood
and nameless bodies lying broken
where they were thrown.
Thick smoke scrapes across my eyes
and carries the smell
of blackened flesh
deep into my lungs where
not even the cheap cigarettes
can displace it.

My body stiff, my movements slow
from too many hours
of walking, always walking,
tense and twitching,
wondering if the droning plane
was one of ours,
waiting to hear if the screeching shell
was coming for us
or for them…
and dreading the answer.

None of us were cowards
but we were all
afraid to die
in a land where we didn’t belong.
And though I made it home
breathing, outwardly intact,
no-one sees that I
am still on patrol,
a permanently curled finger
looking for a trigger.