summer bird



where is hope?

          here, at the top of the Ferris wheel, in the sultry evening sky?

          or at the bottom of the driveway, sweating and green?



perhaps it lies in hot breaths and pumping hips

          or the still

slumbering gum trees

                      was it there when the kite swooped low enough to see the tips of

                                                          its wings?

                                             its eye?

did it pass hope onto us                           in the space between heartbeats

          sullen               slovenly

screwed to the head of a pin?



i could abide a hope broke clean

                                                     from the frame

                                                     a hope gone hard like a nut

                      instead, for me

the long whine of low power

                                                                  a summer crouched orange in the grass



          instead, for me

          a helium hope

                      lighter than the magpie-lark                      or the joy of years

a hope that bends me over

          slow and foolish

the whole sky pressing down