Poetry Two
Death Coming Home
Pressing against heavy cumbersome cars
pedestrians come, competing for space and freedom
I could have run over one in Parramatta
and driving home I see the fight some people have
to breath alone, locked into concrete narrows,
shouting in tricked-up oblongs, that starchly march down
an old man's ghost of a two-bedroom house and garden.
Check out the abundance of local parks and playing fields?
Yes, but what is this by the bitumen wrapped in funeral wreaths?
A fine solitary tree. On the home run
our young die dressed in heavy metal
or leaky boats at sea.
Footnote: I photographed the long narrow block filled with roofs and concrete that inspired lines
four to seven and was accosted by a builder who was repairing the driveway. He was much happier if I didn't publish the photo!
So I've substituted with a shot of Parramatta traffic until I find another such block without paranoid builders.
© S E Crawford 2003