My heart, it started ● drives my breath still

sun ends            begins

snow-laced mountains edge tomorrow

            threadruns through veins ● the cotton or wool of my clothes

and shades of leaves in change 
my father’s friends, mother, family            have been-gone

knit purl            knit purl ● the currawong warbles into the sky

            drops, from branch to branch
like the rain that falls from leaf to leaf

It is 1984 forever ● month after year after week fold ● into a caesura
disturb the dusk ● silence the day ● soft like a wolf’s tread ● high the flag flies

is it the cloud that moves ● as wet glistening wires
tram lines

Victorian chimneys            grey-net branches

Here, in this room

            the Infant of Prague

will swell real tears

Instead, forge playful ● skip on wet-stone ● heaven has retracted its edict ● and heathens

thrive limn this morning frost ● St Kilda road is a stepped skyline ● glyphs along

the margins of the streets ●

The city anaesthetised ● a torn Mobius strip