Arrange it and throw it away –
the morning’s slow progress,
clouds building, sunlight
through red and yellow leaves.
Next door, a lawnmower refuses
to start. Sunday traffic rushing
along Ormond Road as a plastic bag
takes flight above the fence line.


On the porch an ochre pot
of pansies pushing forth
crimson flowers – six sparrows
erupting from the birches;
a barking dog. On the radio,
serious analysis of last night’s
game. The smell of rain arrives
before the showers begin.


Nothing just happens.
The cool breeze stirring the last
leaves from the birches; a new
renovation mimics period style.
Pigeons strutting along the roof
of St Matthew’s, a rainbow
dissolving over the bait shop.
The lawnmower starts at last.


In the news at half-time the left
imitating the right: working
families in a stretch of street
with only one family –
another dog starts barking
in a higher pitch.
Over the road the cheer squad,
still in team colours, begin
to gather for Sunday lunch.


Post-match: the debutant
invokes surrealism.
Late afternoon light
on the cyclamen’s
pink petals –
picket shadows
on the path.
The commentators
stick the knives in.


Streetlights, that in between time
as evening settles; rooflines,
aerials, the cross on St Mary’s spire,
the smell of fish and chips
hanging in the air.
A crow calls –
another answers.
Across the road
the curtains are closing.

Cameron Lowe

Cameron Lowe lives in Geelong. Circle Work, his second book-length collection of poetry, was published by Puncher & Wattmann in 2013.

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