Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The last century


One hell of a hot summer
in the Dardanelles 1915
and the flies were the winners

Someone born that year
died Melbourne 1998 aged 83
His grieving son I may have passed in the street


Go on see
how far-flung memories come down like leaves
even on a tranquil day

A fresh troupe of school-tripping children
disrupts the Age as their voices
trampoline upon the bright air


She sits still in the sunshine reading since Renoir
in full view of the city’s towers plane trees and river
reminding me of too much

The power that lasts like those endless ripples
that undo the packets of sunshine
propels one into being


The station clock
in its Victorian tower
told us all that time in circles

Now a museum piece it turns
lest we forget
into a wireless world

Grant Duncan Melbourne 2.5.06