Nothing
she
has marked
with tiny yellow labels
what
I should save
in case of fire
she
has obviously considered
the matter from all sides
the
bulk of said object
the manpower available
this
end of the street
matters of utility and aesthetic
being
a private matter
she
looks me over
as she holds out the key
as
though trying to picture
me with her chiffoniere
the
birds
will look after themselves
if
I want eggs
I should arm myself with a broom
he
likes to know who’s boss
she invites me
to look through the rubbish
take
anything I want
from that graveyard of old Balmain
she
is all flushed
with the sudden weight of detail
the
common light is a little strained here
due to that ancient oleander
the
rooms smell of timber
rather than tobacco
we
loiter by a photo
I assume is her husband
she
breathes the usual nonsense
while I struggle to place him
a
man I lived beside
for all my childhood
who
would often act
as final arbiter
when a catch was taken
off two walls
kind,
I suppose
because he did not shout at us
brave,
I suppose
because he did not come back
Taken
the
thief
is happy to have me back
we
sit by the stern
watching the smoke curl off the ropes
old
Balmain
devolve into a mock-up
he
seems lighter these days
the curl of his mouth
has
words in it now
he
chews over
my recent trouble
as
though he owned it
as men disarmed by luck will often do
he
looks me over all glassy-eyed
as at the house where he was born
spits
the matter out
into the russet churn
that
water’s getting’ red
as a Pommy’s arse
nods towards the havoc
at Milson’s Point
asks
me about Braidwood
bold as brass
why
am I so dark on him
who saved me more than once
yes
he did yes he did
but we were all so busy doing that
mate,
you heard he beat a man
not to death, mate, don’t worry
ha
ha ha
yer not runnin’ errands
the
crew come round
to shake the ropes dry
but
has anyone told you
what that man was trying to do?
he
had come
to take that darkie’s little girl
for no good reason, mate
bar bein’ a fucking blackie!
that’s
the law, dinks!
got it through while we were away
he
is incredulous
I don’t know why
he
tells me the thing
in all good faith
as
one who slept rough
perhaps
with
her dark eyes
drilling into his back
but
he is a man
too easily swayed
too
eager to believe
what one man saw with ten men’s eyes
