Pelicans, Melbourne Zoo, Australia Day

When I get home I read that they starve their babies,

feeding only the biggest fledgeling,

that boy pelicans attract girl pelicans

by throwing sticks and dead fish into the air,

that they kill other birds, 

pinning them underwater till they drown,

and they have invaded Indonesia.

I can imagine them at K-Mart,

lining up to buy the singlets, the boxers,

the stubby holders,

the temporary tattoos.

How soft I feel in front of them,

how tender hearted and pulpy, 

sipping my latte,

perambulating my undersized young.

Letter to a friend

Did you ever stand

with your hands in the sink

up to your elbows in soapy water

staring out the window

listening to the voices?

there’s no reasonable escape

the only thing you can do is

make the best of it

keep your temper

hold your tongue

love them

Your second self

reflected in the window

mouthing

for god’s sake

take no prisoners

run

He must be packing his bags

The night before my mother was induced

I was so active the midwife said she

must be packing her bags.

Would she have used the feminine?

I was nothing yet

no secret windows to peek

through in those days. No peering

down the gleaming bones to see

what secrets were tucked away.

It was all conjecture and old wives tales.

Mother on the bed

midwife with her instruments

city murmuring upwards

to the stars

and me

in the too small room

they’d allocated me

encountering the limits of myself

looking for a way out

of my liquid language

into the place

where words are

hard, cool objects –

sharp as knives,

blunt as stone,

cracked like eggs,

spilt like milk on marble floors.

You are going to be old

You just do not believe that you

are going to be old. The truth

is you think this moment will last

forever: poolside, light on glass,

your daughter lying back, looking up,

kicking her legs, hand cupped.

You think time does not diminish,

it expands. Nothing of us will vanish.

Legs kicking, sweeping hands, daughter

suspended in dazzling water.

You recall your own early kicks,

lifting your hands to the light.

You watch the light. Time unfolds.

You just don’t believe you are going to be old.

....

The italicised quote is from an interview with Doris Lessing in The Paris Review

North Fitzroy, 2001

Those city nights in summer when we were young

and married and had no kids, we strolled through the park

to the video store, stood in the supermarket

reading the flavours of icecream, or we’d go for pizza,

walking past bridal gowns and the jewellery store

then home again, eating dinner on our knees in front of the television

(always something on we could bring ourselves to watch)

later we sat on the front step across the road from the park

dreaming up baby names, our eyes growing bright in the dark