by James Walton
A rabbit sang outside my window
of the high plains
now chocolate with resowing
at first I thought this not possible
(the rabbit singing I mean)
but a rusty kettle will still boil
even while leaking
the jarrah bench top bronzing
unbuckled by non solar warmth
(the panes broken anyway)
motionless as a captive Durer etching
every muscle outlined
each hair an unruffled mystery
of scattered natural in-breeding
(the myxo eye a little off putting)
a song of ancient lands divided
of travels and pursuit
the piping squealing rising alone
into a wondering day edged open
(the moon in a sirsee falling)
breaking kindling into warmth
misty valley stirring
words failed for timely response
the chance missed for encore
(quiet as the space between pulses).
[James Walton is an Australian poet published in newspapers, many journals, and anthologies. Shortlisted twice for the ACU National Literature Prize, a double prize winner in the MPU International Poetry Prize, and Specially Commended in The Welsh Poetry Competition – his collection The Leviathan’s Apprentice was published in 2015. He has been a librarian, a cattle breeder, a farmer, and on the other side of his working life an elected public sector union official. He lives in an isolated community of dairy farmers in the Strzelecki Mountains in far South Gippsland.]
PØST 