portrait of my father
i.
mallee heart, the camouflage
of wheat-taught
mice – they await
the air’s cue to movement
mallee heart, the bio of geo
where it ruminated with cattle
and ceased. the unsteady
ego that declared ‘I am,’
‘not you, not my mother’
heard back its’ own
echo.
ii.
no stomach for Cape-cod
but mouse-taught, read
Mao Zedong through church undetected,
rising and genuflecting on
the Anglican cue to movement:
im-mortal, in-vis-i-ble
God only knows
iii.
my childhood we summer pilgrims
retracing the state, in nature
this ancestor worship
fed to me rich (de)composition
by canola expanses and ham
sandwiches on white
from milk bars
and encrusted puce blankets
in motels, never
to intone ‘are we
there yet’
but keep passenger vigil
iv.
mouse-taught, a man of staples
dark wool pullovers and culinary
epochs – porridge, bolognese, dhal
the teacher Sir Beret or diminutive
Serbs, rehomes
to a Goldfields’ shed, biblio/file
insulation by miner’s
lamp
my wife and I, our gypsy
caravan, equal parts people-feline
arrive in this field
as at a temple
the summer rips of mice
undertow and roll
deterred by cats
this year.
