Ron Moss, AU and Sheila Windsor, UK




jagged where it snapped

summer moon a scribble-gum shimmers silver
cupped between cobbles angels and hearts in the poet's wake
young love the place where butterflies meet
poppies this field a warm breeze sways scarlet for only one day
final test he collects the phials the inked label still wet
rembrandt making colours in my dream the longest night
skipping a beat my heart in shadows of white
folds of tissue crinkled and creased his christening gown peeps through
'tit for tat' the rub of a cricket ball on polyester
sparks the dark dances with incense and pinot grigio
four miles to go stuffed dice shield the sunset
writer's block i wonder whether orange walls would help
ant trails a ripened avocado turned out of habit
agent provocateur a nun checks her reflection in the window
whaling protest the snap of a g-string at half mast
through an arched leaded window that air by bach again
out of its old case a flute plays the light
close to midnight stars fall one by one to a chorale of frogs
the witching hour love spell whispers and stirs
fresh pie by the window freshly whipped cream on tiny fingertips
glints the magpie's eye a glimpse of gold
brother's hand-me-down snail trail stripes on the pedal car door
his uniform pressed red with sundown
all hands lost at sea the rub of cut glass in the storm lantern
windfalls in the grassy dew
pressed flowers the scent of love letters on the breeze
my txt unanswered still
white magnolias a wind-song in the organ pipes
scraping layer after layer the colours it was
planting out onions the curve of her back under storm clouds
stick thin charcoal jagged where it snapped
in dry summer grasses all that remains of a pilotís dream
to its reflection a flag iris bows
I walk alone shearwaters dive into the sea
dip and lift a jam jar full of sky
kangaroo on the flood plain a horse rears its head







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