55 Days of Rain
55 days of rain.
Defected, once infected.
Little or no return.
Recede into ink.
Muted, wet jubilations.
Writing sustains, will
sustain in orphanages
of dry solitude.
The historic sunlight –
Snowy Mountains Highway
It is spring once more. Sullen poppies bloom on roadsides,
aware of their short days. Purple dials face skyward and their
kinky bendy bodies pave the way right up to the mountains.
Black ice has melted. Wombat carcasses, too, form garlands
and their wafting fumes, unmistakable, invade your nostrils
as you drive by. Their old faces melt slowly –
Baby brown snakes are out early looking for reptile thrills only to
wind up in a small sun-soaked town. Flat, in a gutter, a small
child’s amusement, stinking to high heavens.
And fireweed has one its war – baffled farmers retreat with
defeat and hope the best for the livestock. Defiant yellows stand
erect under the thrashing midday sunlight. Their placards travel
fast with the winds.
Remnants and dreams dot the paddocks. Windmills smile down
upon travellers. And apple gums hope for the best.
Michelle Gaddes was born in Sydney, Australia, and lives on the far south NSW coast. She completed her B.A in Community & Environment with the University of Wollongong in 2005. At the end of 2011 Michelle will have completed her M.A in Writing and Literature (Deakin University). Her two poetry compilations, Pariah and Aurora Borealis (Ginninderra Press) will both be released in 2011. Michelle has had other works published online in Danse Macabre, Zygote in my Coffee, Carcinogenic Poetry and Gloom Cupboard, to name some. She is a PhD candidate at the University of Canberra in 2012.