Undercover at Battery Point

By | 31 October 2021

Gritty realism playing solo fruit box bongo
on flagstone stairs and heavy awnings

reduces the morning to a wet/dry sequence
cosying in doorways, dot-dot-dashing under

drooping canopies of parasols flanked with
oversaturated slashes of synthetic pelt.

Concessionaires in their snug shops concede
little too late to the ocean’s Aeolian bite

pricing their oblations of Uggs, felt mittens
and umbrellas on airlocked mantels as if

the townsfolk aren’t already Patty Hearsts
to the Symbionese cold front storming in.

For a spell our shelter’s a seven-dimensional
cinema’s foyer. A nature doco’s trailer loops.

Possibly apocryphally the director’s family
brought the first Italian bees here their first

giddy sips of Eucryphia lucida (leatherwood)
an understory dweller who — as it transpires —

revels in rain, whose pollen acts presumably
as the niggling pearl of pre-precipitation

in at least one finger of the tumbling nectar
the bumblebees on the foyer’s flatscreen

swim in hyper definition through sunbeams
and gently rising mist at all costs to avoid.

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