Monday, November 21, 2016

Lachlan Brown #14 Local Legend

Local Legend

So there was this caterpillar who played
front row for the Riverstone Butchers,
back when the league’s structures
weren’t certain. Regular brawls made

everyone fear the team’s displays
of bloody minded pugilism. Stuff yers
, he’d yell after each loss. Rough thirst,
too, that caterpillar. He drank in ways

you’d never imagine, even before our games.
That made the fights better, of course,
warm blood fertilising the Meat Works oval,

a segmented body thrashing Windsor’s famous
hard men into pulp, and each muttered curse
spinning a cocoon that couldn’t keep him larval.

NB: This poem is a response to Tony Curran’s drawing, ‘one of them smirks through his bendy straw (yeahnahyeahnah)’

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