Wednesday, May 25, 2016

#145 Kevin Brophy 'It's true, isn't it?'

#145 ‘It is true, isn’t it?’

Bless the men for holding an election
and letting some women
get elected too
is it true that some men will vote
for these women

bless them

and is it true
that some of these women
will be senators for six years

or is there a law against that too

let me bless the man who stuttered
on television last night
and the woman beside him
so proud of something

as he asked a question I couldn’t follow

and bless this long road
we have taken, its tolls and potholes

there are birds with white chests
and dark backs flying around
in threesomes
who know nothing
of what doesn’t matter in the short run
or even the medium

they still talk among themselves
in pips and squeaks warbles
and flits of the beak
or eye or wing
that can say and mean everything

bless all apples ever eaten
bless the desert snake somewhere
in the walls in the playroom
listening to children cry
and mothers sigh
making no sense of this

I don’t know what the cars do here
except rust, lose windows, and agree
to stand out finally
in sunsets
and forever contemplative
of the role of the machine as forlorn object

is it true that a boy follows his father
down the road
his father pushing a mower
the boy looking at his own feet move
just like his father’s
and the father thinking of doing a job
that needs to be done

bless him in his garden
bless the fire at the ends of our burning fingers

bless whatever lives
in the hollows of the coolibah

the boy’s father knows
where the old grinding stone is
in the creek
a stone left behind
maybe forty thousand years ago
maybe a hundred and fifty years ago
maybe dropped there fifty years ago

he visits it
picks it up
turns it over
(it was used on both sides)
weighs it in his hands
as something carried
across a desert
(it’s not a stone from here)
and puts it back

bless this memory of Eden
bless all the apples ever eaten

and the men who’ve allowed
some women to stand for election
is it true

the boy is known as the boy
who knows
about dogs dingoes and goannas

and he walks
just like his father

who will never stand for election
but can teach you how
to cut and saw and mow

is it true
the town is moving past and
no one is on commission here

someone has a couch on a trailer
as if they’re moving out
or moving in

bless the dogs that go like
dogs through our dreams
homeless and wholly themselves
gnawing on questions their souls
cannot understand

bless all memories of walking

a woman carries a baby
while the man carries the pusher

the true dust is on their real feet

1 comment:

  1. bless... a kind of wild-eyed truth telling, as if Lear's fool knew about voting


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