dead birds on the shore
she sees them, and sees herself
battered, blown off course
in the guts of such storms as
bully this coast
she’s buffeted: she feels her wings snap
by day her surrounds eddy grey and by night
churn black: the sea, the sky, neither down
nor up nor around no sense
no salvation – small corpses, oil-slick sodden
dumped, junked by the tide
dark damp broken omens against
panic and exhaustion (so tired)
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Australian-born, with English mother, has lived in several Australian cities and in London. Travelled widely. Way way back when, published widely as a poet and short story writer. For the first 20 years of my working life I worked as an entertainment journalist, publicist, PR consultant and in advertising and media agencies. In the second 20 years, I worked in marketing roles at non-profit organisations then retrained as a teacher, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees. Also did miserable McJobs, and a long, happy stint at an art gallery.
