Stony Creek

By and | 1 February 2018

When it rains
you flow by

eleven quarry holes
dub the town: Stoneopolis;
of ballast stocks,


Your ancient bed served London well:
her pavement smooth and durable
heels low and high,
as distant feet, hooved, unshod
sink into softer clays and silt
(like mine like mine).

When it rains
you flow high
waste of wool and skin:
the scouring foam
of sulfur, lime and tan,
to hair combed half moon estuary.
Mangrove fringed
in green and white.
Backwash named
to push away
loss of tea tree
and untold lives who passed
(this way this way).

When it rains
you flow high
long cemented sides,
water finds a way
to this bay home.

(to this bay this bay home).

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