Whisper Songs

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Whisper Songs Page 1

by Tony Birch




  Tony Birch is the author of three

  novels: the bestselling The White Girl, winner of the 2020 NSW Premier’s

  Award for Indigenous Writing and

  shortlisted for the 2020 Miles

  Franklin Literary Award; Ghost River, winner of the Victorian Premier’s

  Literary Award for Indigenous

  Writing; and Blood, which was shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award in 2012. He is also the author of Shadowboxing and three short story col ections: Father’s Day, The Promise and Common People. His first col ection of poetry, Broken Teeth, was published in 2016. In 2017 he was awarded the Patrick White Literary Award for his contribution to Australian literature.

  Tony Birch is also an activist, historian and essayist.

  www.tony-birch.com

  Also by Tony Birch

  Shadowboxing

  Father’s Day

  Blood

  The Promise

  Ghost River

  Common People

  Broken Teeth

  The White Girl

  First published 2021 by University of Queensland Press PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia

  uqp.com.au

  [email protected]

  Copyright © Tony Birch 2021

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

  This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  Cover design by Jenna Lee

  Typeset in 11.5/14 pt Adobe Garamond by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group University of Queensland Press is assisted by the Australian Government through

  the Australia Council, its arts funding

  and advisory body.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia.

  ISBN 978 0 7022 6327 9 (pbk)

  ISBN 978 0 7022 6507 5 (epdf)

  University of Queensland Press uses papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products made from wood grown in well-managed forests. The logging and manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

  For Wayne Birch

  25 July 1961 – 26 March 2019

  Contents

  Introduction – Anne-Marie Te Whiu xiii

  BLOOD

  Little Man 5

  Dragster 6

  Fading Light 7

  TKO 10

  Isabel 11

  Women 12

  Away 13

  Sacred Heart 14

  Finding You Outside Kyoto 15

  Matinee 16

  A Father Brushes His Daughter’s Hair

  on the First Day of School 17

  ‘Trouble Trouble Trouble’: Probation File 29/1957 18

  Stillborn 20

  Archie 22

  4 am the Window 23

  Cathedral 24

  Leaving 25

  SKIN

  The Eight Truths of Khan 31

  The Silence 42

  Forebearer 43

  A Matter of Lives 44

  Waiting for a Train with Thelma Plum 45

  Hygiene for a Nation’s Soul 46

  A Native Surgeon’s Duties 47

  The Oath of a White Man 49

  Razor-wire Nation 50

  Race War 51

  Gallows – near La Trobe Street 52

  Tunnerminnerwait 55

  WATER

  How Water Works 61

  Black Ophelia 63

  Companions in Death 64

  Birrarung Billabong 66

  At the Creek 67

  The Arteries 69

  Swimming Whole 70

  Water 71

  Gunnamatta 72

  Beneath the Bridge 74

  Desecrate 76

  The Great Flood of 1971 78

  Acknowledgements 81

  Introduction

  1986 our neighbourhood

  out on the street at 3 am

  pyjamas and anticipation

  my eyes to the sky

  poised ready to spot the tail

  blazing between gathered stars

  Halley’s comet was ours

  and mine all at once

  This is the awe I feel when reading

  Tony Birch’s Whisper Songs

  his words are constellations of memories

  his heart beats across hemispheres and time as though his resistance is charged by the Earth’s magnetic field

  blacker the better holds the light

  mercury rising

  blood

  moon wears

  skin

  meteor showers

  water

  —Anne-Marie Te Whiu

  xiii

  BLOOD

  Tony and Brian Birch,

  Fitzroy, 1963

  Little Man

  searched for you at night

  beyond the creaking gate

  old haunts street corners

  back lanes dressed in rain

  big sky darkness

  spoke soft words

  calling your name

  echoes to glimpsed light

  fell with a dying moon

  our whispered songs for you

  face hidden you refused us

  mute silent brother

  we marked you lost

  our hidden faces

  mourning mourning

  until you appeared

  brown pools honey locks

  in one hand a guitar

  in the other a book

  words of gold

  music ever true

  a song of promise

  you sang sweet –

  I will be with you

  5

  Dragster

  red bicycles ring tandem

  slalom empty streets

  chrome

  on morning sunlight

  tyres

  on crumbling bitumen

  floating air

  on air

  we rode the world together

  fearless 501s barefoot

  no shirts no hands

  cigarettes

  reckless

  bodies battling

  we were

  born to pain

  6

  Fading Light

  in 1940 my grandfather

  Austin ‘Snowy’ Corcoran

  was discharged from the air force

  saved by colour blindness

  his war effort was fought

  on the assembly line

  a night-shift boilermaker at

  General Motors–Holden

  he was a man busy building

  the all-Australian car

  in 1953 he came home

  a warm early morning to

  the narrow two-storey terrace

  slipping in the back door while

  my grandmother five children

  slept in oblivion upstairs

  ever the organised man

  he placed hat and coat on hook

  neatly folded working clothes

  stripped to white underwear

  walked into a tiled bathroom

  snapping the brass lock behind him

  my mother a girl of twelve

  found his soulless body

  slumped across the bathtub

  he left her no story

  and the coroner gave little away:

  7

  well-built man

  aged forty-seven

  came home from work

  took carving knife

  cut his throat<
br />
  in the hospital’s tiled theatre

  a future grandfather’s life

  was pronounced extinct

  this large and powerful man

  lay unshaven of pallid skin

  carrying a heart of twelve ounces

  across a life of separation

  my blood wearing his own

  I study my mother’s mantle

  take an engraved pre-war

  football trophy in my hands and

  examine a handpainted photograph

  hammered with a rusting nail

  my grandfather is in uniform

  forever waiting to be called

  on a chilling winter afternoon

  we visit Melbourne General

  Nanna Alma and me

  she weeds her own plot

  we change murky water

  and arrange fresh flowers

  8

  it would be his birthday

  she sings songs for him and

  cries forty years of loss for

  Austin Patrick Corcoran

  who lies buried in solid clay

  below his youngest son

  Michael John Anthony

  died tragical y ‘murder’

  28th day of July 1962

  9

  TKO

  you dreamt one life for yourself

  and something less for us

  ever becoming the middleweight

  pound-for-pound undefeated

  a contender in a man’s own home

  we were relegated

  punching bags

  sparring partners and patsies

  for the feigned left hook

  awkward footwork the duck

  and weave followed

  wait for it

  by a straight right from the shoulder

  putting her to the canvas

  down

  down and out for the count

  10

  Isabel

  beautifully stubborn

  four years and rising

  deep frown eyes fierce

  limbs of courage

  a girl holding ground

  bone and memory

  of women reaching back

  meeting deep time then

  cartwheeling forward

  armour for her courage

  she is the circle we gather

  11

  Women

  for Nina

  they boss street corners

  floral dresses cleavage lips

  child-bearing swaying hips

  we watch from safety

  outside touching distance

  barely teenage boys

  with nothing to show

  for a wild imagination

  but school shorts and

  hairless milk-white skin

  early paper round a woman naked

  in a window still Sunday morning

  she turns to me and waves

  smiles at me hair thinning

  eyes hazel naked open

  wounds in place of breasts

  Nanna lifted her skirt for me

  varicose legs of factory standing shifts

  she forced my hand to a jagged scar

  a braille story on a woman’s skin

  the mark of men destroying love

  12

  Away

  warmed hollow

  of a shared bed

  a place where you

  once rested is –

  away

  your breath singing

  rising through morning air

  to fill the rooms of houses

  the life of you –

  away

  fingerprints marking time

  on a kitchen table

  scars on a doorframe

  a bicycle wheel creaking

  its windmill in the yard

  a mother’s hands sweeping

  though locks of hair to

  untangle and savour –

  away

  and along a dusty road

  running away from home

  to where secrets are held

  in ghosting whispers

  your crying feet

  leave no dance –

  away

  13

  Sacred Heart

  schoolyard of scattered gusts

  littered with frenzied tags

  marks of soft-skinned boys

  fine hair delicate fingers

  lives of labelled comfort

  this their only rebellion

  the pigeons no longer bother

  shitting on the slate church spire

  beside the nuns’ bathroom

  a peppercorn tree climbed

  to view the all-holy arse

  of a vicious headmistress

  long dead long gone

  the flag of a diseased nation

  hangs limply above tales of abuse

  Stations of the Cross witness to

  touching here probing there

  cloaked acts in the name of God

  this concrete yard was once ours

  lanes streets crumbling houses

  gutters to rusting rooftops now

  unwanted unloved even by lovers

  of coffeed corners steaming

  and houses sparse and heartless

  14

  Finding You Outside Kyoto stone cats in red knits

  line a narrow canal

  sweetened water swirls

  pots of fallen leaves

  tannin-stained hands

  awaiting winters soon born

  in the hills above the city

  mist and mystery settle

  climbing with you weightless

  in the small of my back

  sweat trickles to skin

  my heart suddenly shifts

  like a runaway clock

  on the summit snatching chilled breaths

  I settle on rock and wait for you

  my body sways stops dead

  away from the home I anchor to

  fear escaped me – finally

  on a ridge of solid stone

  you held me you covered me

  we lay together on ground

  15

  Matinee

  in the moulding gloom

  of the old Victory pictures

  carpets swirled and stained

  in the back stalls of lust

  where wild girls kissed girls

  we rode chariots in the cheap seats

  of a suburban colosseum along with

  the oiled biceps of Charlton Heston

  he left his guns at home

  and found Jesus in technicolour

  ate ice-cream fondled thighs

  and blew cigarette smoke-rings

  watching Tony Curtis in tights

  our swashbuckling prince

  four nil and counting

  John Wayne the self-righteous cowboy

  waged a war on a veneer frontier

  each Saturday at two o’clock sharp

  we were forever the circling Indians

  content with our savagery

  16

  A Father Brushes His Daughter’s Hair on the First Day of School

  for Grace

  new year shoes and blisters

  your growing pains a curse

  eyes deep with worry

  watching our hands dance

  ‘don’t worry,’ I whisper

  ‘you will be magnificent’

  you ask for a poem

  a story of hair

  you carry a field

  of light and care

  tenderly touched

  by this morning sun

  17

  ‘Trouble Trouble Trouble’: Probation File 29/1957

  juvenile a child in manner

  deceptively dangerously alluring

  stained in dusky skin

  eyes big dark doe-like arresting

  charm the mask of chaos

  first blush perhaps a girl child?
>
  our desire to save quickens the heart

  light limbs soft voice pursed lips sweet

  honey-blond hair as fine as, yes, silk

  but he is not to be mistaken for innocence on 30 September 1970 in the Year of Our Lord evidenced in Her Majesty’s Children’s Court Batman Avenue the juvenile acting with ‘malice aforethought’

  confronted an Officer of the Crown (page 7 para. 1) with violence previously unwitnessed by said Officer pages, entries, words contained within evidence a sorry tale inevitable fall from grace –

  troubled infancy, troubled schooling

  trouble trouble trouble – triplicate

  in bold in red underlined asterisked accordingly 18

  a predicted story of woe (page 22 para. 3) the child was ‘beaten repeatedly & severely’

  aged 10 years 7 months 12 days

  with metal bar trouser belt and fists

  by ‘person or persons’ of child’s own blood the boy himself becomes that which he fears violence courses his veins and therefore –

  therefore he must become the protected one by us for us and himself and for the country this the only Nation girt by sea

  19

  Stillborn

  pathway to the children’s burial ground

  wreckage of broken tablets collapsed

  testimonials weed-infested plots and

  Margaret – who toppled to her end in her sixty-fist year eventually

  followed by a marble tribute

  memorialising her good Christian name

  she lies one grass lane from James McNay aged 74 years died at Moonee Ponds

  who left a scriptured legacy:

  they shall walk with me in

  white for they are worthy

  at the site of the common grave

  he carries the face of my brother

  catches the wind in infant hands

  soft unmarked unscarred loving

  a soul resting here with the many

  born on Good Friday and gone

  before the sun went down

  he smiles marvels briefly

  reaching for toy cars and dolls

  memento mori to those

  a day hours minutes old

  pausing he frowns my way

  sensing sadness living here

  we sit together and watch

  20

  a whirligig spinning madly stops reverses runs escapes

  slows to a final gasp before

  airlessness ends its charge

 

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