The view from here VII

  In these troubled times

It’s a small enough thing to contribute,
but hanging out washing, dipping time
and again to the green basket so I
think of a crane at a friendly pond –
well, poetry’s notions aside, it is one
man’s small but significant shot
at a better world.
                               I would not, friend,
be too surprised should aliens
think this is how earthlings connect
on Mondays right along the street,
the suburb, the other side of town,
as answers return by camisoles,
vests, shirts spread solemnly
which may speak of death, more
sensual signings off with flimsier
colourful garments.
                                  I have red pegs
in my mouth which might be mistaken
for draculean thirst, a taste for
jugular embrace. (Oh, we joke
too, we washerfolk, slapping
sheets in place!)  One might erect
a library – more than that – a truly
fictive world, our taut lines
stretching their crisp goodwill
one city, one continent, to another. . .
Annunciations might whizz across wires
like shooting dockets in old-time shops. . .
Being Monday wherever. Yours ever,
Sock.


Vincent O’Sullivan

More poems in ‘The view from here’ series

The view from here — Ian Wedde

Takahe — Bill Manhire 

Cilla, writing — Elizabeth Smither

h e l l o   a n d   g o o d b y e — Michele Leggott 

Breach — Cilla McQueen

Between Shingle Creek and Fruitlands — Brian Turner