and
The Lowlands (West Melbourne Swamp)

1 February 2018

Through boulders grey and honeycombed,
carving out a bed in time,
two rivers meet on the south west side.

The ebb and flow now
realigned.
Paved and railed.
Containerised.
Roadways hard against the tide.

To cross you, morning and at night.
Wetlands sleep beneath these lines.

I never wondered who you were – until
my sleep became disturbed – until
my feet were raw with nerves
unnamed yearning; – until
searching for a place to be.

I remembered:
water pooling in the yard,
algae blooming thick and green,
cracked soles and holes as my shoes sank
classroom cold,
June’s creeping damp.
The drain, once creek, now channelised,
rising through the night.

I wished I was the underlay:
the weave and weft of silt and clay
of saline marsh and sedge and
drift.

My carriage sways.
Trains glide along the causeway.

To cross you, morning and at night.
Wetlands sleep beneath these lines.
I cross you.

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