Wrote this in the Reading Room of the Customs House Library, hearing the horn-blare of ferries going to and fro from the Quay dock, the heaving blue-white Sydney buses veer the corner, and the whisper shuffle of study notes echoing down the long wood tables, the walls of yellow page books. Pretending to study while Alex actually studied. Ah, so good.
The Midday Swing.
Farflung the bloom at noonday
Drift
Wind-seized at the height of its
Great green life
Purple bloom, to knock you flat
In one blind blow
The blood rush thrilling, flows
To mend your swelling eyes, bruised hands and feet
Last touched
Petal kissed
Revel.
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