1126
on Day One of the poem
I
was there
combustible
remember
you darling hung
the
playpen beads
I
built it out of mud and timber
everything
was made then
you
can call it primeval
call
it the cranium cave lamp
yesterday’s
sun still with us
everyone
got the headgear at Bunnings
no
one fell to their knees
in
a penniless loft
will
someone anyone strike a match?
another
was already begun
and
persevered with it
from
chaos
(can
we even spell it then?)
a
dabble to begin
and
out of compost muck I mulched
one
imagines then rain
on
such a night
was
I an envy green?
but
no
I
had a face to it
and
grew
into
the storm
every
inch of it a stretch
all
the forevers there
and
flowers
no
one knew that they’d been said
my
aim in all
not
to be remembered
I
know I will be buried in
best
suit I ever wore
this
is how I go to the maker
Day
One is a tautology
and
yet we are believed
you
had to have been there
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