Collected Poems

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Collected Poems Page 52

by Les Murray


  will you drink in your suit?

  Will you come on the Net?

  Once it was unions

  now it’s no carbohydrates

  no fats, then no proteins

  barista, barista!

  In the tall cities

  barista, barista!

  world is not made of atoms

  world is made of careers.

  DEATH FROM EXPOSURE

  That winter. We missed her stark face

  at work. Days till she was found, under

  his verandah. Even student torturers

  used to go in awe. She had zero small talk.

  It made no sense she had his key.

  It made no sense all she could have

  done. Depression exhausts the mind.

  She phones, no response, she drives up

  straight to his place in the mountains,

  down a side road, frost all day.

  You knock. What next? You can’t manage

  what next. Back at last, he finds her car.

  She’s crawled in, under, among the firewood.

  Quite often the world is not round.

  ME AND JE REVIENS

  My great grand-uncle invented haute couture. Tiens,

  I am related to Je Reviens!

  It is the line of Worth, Grandmother’s family

  that excuses me from chic. It’s been done for me.

  When Worths from Coolongolook, Aboriginal and white,

  came out of Fromelles trenches on leave from the fight

  they went up to Paris and daringly located

  the House of Worth. At the doors, they hesitated –

  but were swept from inquiry to welcome to magnificence:

  You have come around the world to rescue France,

  dear cousins. Nothing is too good for you!

  Feast now and every visit. Make us your rendezvous.

  I checked this with Worths, the senior ones still living:

  Didn’t you know that? they said. Don’t you know anything?

  PRESSURE

  A man with a neutral face

  in the great migration

  clutching his shined suitcase

  queueing at the Customs station:

  Please (yes, you) open your suitcase.

  He may not have understood.

  Make it snappy. Open it! Come on!

  Looking down out of focus did no good.

  Tell him to open his suitcase!

  The languages behind him were pressure.

  He hugged his case in stark reluctance.

  Tell him put suitcase on the counter!

  Hasps popped, cut cords fell clear

  and there was nothing in the suitcase.

  CHURCH

  I. M. JOSEPH BRODSKY

  The wish to be right

  has decamped in large numbers

  but some come to God

  in hopes of being wrong.

  High on the end wall hangs

  the Gospel, from before he was books.

  All judging ends in his fix,

  all, including his own.

  He rose out of Jewish,

  not English evolution

  and he said the lamp he held

  aloft to all nations was Jewish.

  Freedom still eats freedom,

  justice eats justice, love –

  even love. One retarded man said

  church makes me want to be naughty,

  but naked in a muddy trench

  with many thousands, someone’s saying

  the true god gives his flesh and blood.

  Idols demand yours off you.

  PASTORAL SKETCHES

  The sex of a stallion at rest

  bulges in subtle fine rehearsal,

  and his progeny drop in the grass

  like little loose bagpipes.

  Wet nap and knotty drones, they lie

  glazing, and learning air

  then they lever upright, wobbling.

  Narrow as two dimensions

  they nuzzle their mothers’ groin

  for the yoghurt that makes girth.

  *

  The prickly paperbark tree

  annually called Snow-in-summer

  resembles the fragrant coiffure

  of a crowd of senior women;

  it joins up into a mountain,

  white as Graz, warm as cauliflower.

  Pencil holes in the clay soil

  are where cicadas woke from their

  years of foetus life, to two

  two days frantic amethystine.

  *

  Individuals move round, miles apart,

  planning gravel, making access.

  Local news is the kind least sold.

  Funerals come by radio or phone,

  deduction and For Sale bring other bits,

  some must even be danced for

  at the Hall. You know Sid’s moved? –

  Where to? – Out Gunnedah. –

  After only eighty years? – His absence

  will be the dark under their house brim.

  *

  Cleome flowers on improbably lank

  spears incline their heads, to fling

  free of the booty weight of bees.

  Cats freeze and dab, and have to be

  screamed back No, Mogg! as a snake

  shuffles its suits like a cardsharp’s stretch.

  Christmas stars detonating violetly

  the season comes on with beachwear and bling.

  We preferred the no-fly zone of Spring,

  and cattle wade in their peaceful tragedy.

  THE BLUEPRINT

  Whatever the great religions offer

  it is afterlife their people want:

  Heaven, Paradise, higher reincarnations,

  together or apart –

  for these they will love God, or butter Karma.

  Afterlife. Wherever it already exists

  people will crawl into ships’ framework

  or suffocate in truck containers to reach it,

  they will conjure it down

  on their beaches and their pooled clay streets,

  inject it, marry into it.

  The secular withholds any obeisance

  that is aimed upwards.

  It must go declaratively down,

  but ‘an accident of consciousness

  between two eternities of oblivion’ –

  all of us have done one

  of those eternities already, on our ear.

  After the second, we require an afterlife

  greater and stranger than science gives us now,

  life like, then unlike

  what mortal life has been.

  BLUEPRINT II

  Life after death

  with all the difficult people

  away in a separate felicity.

  NORFOLK ISLAND

  What did they get for England,

  the Bounty mutineers?

  Tahitian wives, then the discharging

  of murder, on an islet walled by sea.

  When all the ship-takers were dead

  England gave their descendants

  this greater island draped like a green

  parachute over cliffs and ravines

  and pegged with towering furled pines.

  All around lay the same blue wall

  supplies are still roped and lightered

  in over, for the Beauty mountaineers.

  They lived in an abandoned gulag.

  Trim Georgian houses whose inside

  fireplaces astonished the first

  of Bounty’s neo-Polynesians.

  On a Sydney whim, they were driven

  out of that guilty settlement:

  damn half breeds on Quality Row!

  Sick people in their beds on the street –

  Go up and live on your allotments!

  Now the island is a garden city

  in the flown-over ocean,

  a godly tan ar
istocracy

  whose children don’t seem hostile

  and cars buzz them around

  their anxiously fostering nation

  of big unused fields.

  (Chorus) We got

  everything Tahiti got

  e-e-xcept the

  coconut!

  BIRTHPLACE

  Right in that house over there

  an atom of sharp spilled my sanctum

  and I was extruded, brain cuff,

  in my terror, in my soap.

  My heart wrung its two

  already working hands together

  but all the other animals

  started waking up in my body,

  the stale-water frog, the starving-worm;

  my nerves’ knotwork globe

  was filling up with panic writing;

  bat wings in my chest caught fire

  and I screamed in comic hiccups

  all before focus, in the blazing cold –

  then I was re-plugged, amid soothe,

  on to a new blood that tasted.

  Nothing else intense

  happened to us, in this village.

  My two years’ schooltime here

  were my last in my own culture,

  the one I still get held to

  in this place, in working hours.

  I love the wry equal humane

  and drive in to be held to it.

  THE SICK-BAGS

  We landed through a Southerly Buster,

  mad wind of thirty degrees south.

  This landing was truly foot and mouth:

  the sick-bags whispered out of every seat as

  the plane bucked through two thousand metres,

  lurched, and caused a grim fluster

  like massed fans at a cotillon

  before wheels locked, and rolled

  and we would live on.

  Heads of young trees were at work

  still brushing the ground.

  LATERAL DIMENSIONS

  Cloudy night –

  not enough stars

  to make frost

  haunted house –

  one room the cattle

  never would go in

  mowing done –

  each thing’s a ship again

  on a wide green harbour

  purification –

  newspapers soaked in rain

  before they are read

  an airliner, high –

  life falling in from space

  to ramify

  rodeo bull

  he wins every time

  then back on the truck

  only one car

  of your amber necklace

  holds a once-living passenger

  afternoon plains –

  the only hill ahead

  is the rising moon

  eels’

  liquid jostle through the grass

  that night of the year

  big pelican, begging,

  hook through one yellow foot –

  and nobody dares

  on line

  the first motor car

  trotting without a horse

  joking

  in a foreign language

  everyone looks down

  accused of history

  many decide

  not to know any

  all the colours

  of inside a pumpkin –

  Mallee forest in rain

  BRIGHT LIGHTS ON EARTH

  Luminous electric grist

  brushed over the night world:

  White Korea, Dark Korea,

  tofu detailing all Japan,

  Bangkok on a diamond saddle,

  snowed-in Java and Bali

  circled by shadow isles,

  Cairo in its crushed-ice coupe,

  dazzling cobwebbed Europe

  that we’ve seen go black.

  Now the streetlights don’t

  switch off for wars. The past

  is fuel of glacé continents,

  it rims them in stung salt,

  Australia in her sparsely starred

  flag hammock. Human light

  is the building whose walls

  are inside. It bleeds the planet

  but who could be refused

  the glaring milk of earth?

  PANIC ATTACK

  The body had a nightmare.

  Awake. No need of the movie.

  No need of light, to keep hips

  and shoulders rotating in bed

  on the gimbals of wet eyes.

  Pounding heart, chest pains –

  should it be the right arm hurting?

  The brain was a void

  or a blasted-out chamber –

  shreds of speech in there,

  shatters of lust and prayer.

  No one can face their heart

  or turn their back on it.

  Bowel stumbled to bowl,

  emptied, and emptied again

  till the gut was a train

  crawling in its own tunnel,

  slowly dragging the nightmare

  down with it, below heart level.

  You would not have died

  the fear had been too great

  but: to miss the ambulance moment –

  Relax. In time, your hourglass

  will be reversed again.

  RECOGNISING THE DERISION AS FEAR

  Death gets into the suburbs, but sleek

  turnover highrise keeps it out of mind

  and wilderness, wrapped in its own deaths,

  scarcely points us at ours,

  but furred rusty machines, and grey

  boards unglazed for heritage or holiday –

  you can’t truck in enough bricks.

  Settled country is the land of the dead,

  there you are taught love as mourning,

  you shop in boarded-up places.

  It’s great to follow car-dust

  out towards the Mistake,

  way past a working people’s farm,

  long widowed, standing in space.

  GENTRIFICAL FORCE

  Gentrifical force, gentrifical force:

  that’s an ex-convict on his own horse

  with a new white wife and the black one gone

  with his first children to a far station.

  Then race and real estate took a joint course

  and white ladies held the no-creole line

  that ran up through sheaves to raise the bricks

  which would become every rising town.

  Gentrifical force: who paid for yours?

  I sold out the conscripts and made them go mad

  when we were rewritten by a new fashion.

  I had to be cool. I have no remorse.

  From the high ground we now tell our blood

  that they are scum, living on stolen salt land –

  Gentrifical force leaves so many behind

  and turns them to primitives in its mind.

  THE PHYSICAL DIASPORA OF WILLIAM WALLACE

  Your conquest of the world

  by merchandrie and steam,

  by logic and surgery

  gets my sidelong esteem

  but every true nation is

  underlain by hard men.

  I fought for a kingdom

  to guard our ways in.

  We’d fought off each other,

  we’d fought off the Norse;

  I chain-maced the English

  from my wee shaggy horse

  and my heart’s near the Highlands,

  my spleen is in York,

  one gnawed shin’s in London,

  my blood’s in your talk –

  such was their peace-work.

  I confess I brought grue

  down on cottars and lassies

  but for less long than you

  with your borderless realms

  of doctrine and idea,

  often colder than the cleavers

  that sent me far and ne
ar,

  me, followed by high-hearts,

  the headlong and the poor

  to Wembley and Calcutta,

  to Melbourne and Bras d’Or

  to be Scots for some lifetimes

  and then Scots no more.

  SUNDAY ON A COUNTRY RIVER

  After caramel airs of the sugar islands

  and their carrying-handle bridges,

  we skimmed over salt rainwater

  that was reached across by smoke.

  Ospreys flew, or sat up castled on sticks

  and the shore trees were algal with creeper.

  The diked low country on parole from floods

  began foreshadowing inland jacaranda.

  Below a two-deck bridge and cathedral city

  water silver-brown as polarised shades

  shook ahead of us, and split

  in two behind us like innumerable catch.

  We tied up under high oiled gondola-poles.

  Fig trees had star-burst the pavements we pubbed on

  but the blackboards lunch was scrubbed on

  sent us away to cast off for more vista.

  Pelicans still luffed aloft

  now into air that breathed of cattle, and

  front-verandah houses, bland with equality,

  perched atop increasing bluffs.

  Only a historic Bedouin tent of vast

  corrugated iron presided, farther back,

  and turning under layered cliffs

  we kept causing long wing-skitter takeoffs.

  We were nearly to Pages’, when our boat

  Bumped and started cavilling. It gets hairy from here,

  we said. And there was hair, too,

  muddy blonde, growing just underwater.

  RIPE IN THE ARBOURS OF THE NOSE

  Even rippled with sun

  the greens of a citrus grove darken

  like ocean deepening from shore.

  Each tree is full of shade.

  A shadowy fast spiral through

  and a crow’s transfixed an orange

  to carry off and mine

  its latitudes and longitudes

  till they’re a parched void scrotum.

  alAndalus has an orange grove

  planted in rows and shaven above

  to form an unwalkable dream lawn

  viewed from loggias.

  One level down,

  radiance in a fruit-roofed ambulatory.

  Mandarin, if I didn’t eat you

  How could you ever see the sun?

  (Even I will never see it

  except in blue translation).

 

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