I adore
my sister’s sons &
this
tributary crow
town
laughter
of industry
rhythm
streams
flow from
dense seedbank
sky-
corridor to
ward
ancient economies
precious
Gadigal
way
Bidjigal
pockets
they're listening
to
she-oak
Wangal
voices regrowing
yarns
on occupied land
stored and spun
along this Wolli valley walk
sustaining
familial
inflections
accents
rusted
auto-
orchestrations
once
a chain of
mobile
ponds &
from their broken
long before
so far from homelands
croaking
english grew
cliff face
caves filled
fossil
flood waters
with broken glass
wetland salt marsh
counterparts
exhaling pan-greenery &
a wound
a cadenza remnant filled
this shady patch
healing
topsoil
tears
their properly good
ol' holiday
grassroot
voices
all day sing
memory's
out
landish
creek covered ruins
in love &
war
with every
light-speckled
lizard
sipping grevillea dew
or
whispers of
some such incident
where new growth leaves
sunny pollen on their faces
that would babble like
the Country
mind &
spring
breezes
an image
a shady
grove
pooled lowest point
a story
black magic
(colocasia esculenta)
stemlets
tilt &
dance
animate in joyful
tangles