Ekphrasis: Bill Henson, Untitled 128/13, 1985/86, type C colour photograph

By | 1 May 2020

The way a lighted
late sky over suburbs
causes pain in the body
occurs despite its being
nothing to do with us, just
light and a particular
density of gas. Like God
it is unphotographable.

The hurtling empire
of cars, trucks, petrol pumps,
become toys. The smallness of the
all-night self-serve glow,
tin cup rattled
among timpani.

Back when those signs still said
Westpac Handyway, I was sixteen, I would go
to the park at dusk to cry, lie
on my side beneath great elms
that had turned to felt and silk
in the softness, the Red
Rooster sign just come on. I
was a toy, too – one night
a group of boys sent a comrade
to sneak behind me, shout
suddenly. I leapt, they
howled.

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One Response to Ekphrasis: Bill Henson, Untitled 128/13, 1985/86, type C colour photograph

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