|
New Doubtland
I used to wear childhood
as if it was 1979, uncertainty hanging awkwardly like a small yellow raincoat
from the cloak room hook;
a mini series about the Holocaust was on TV; music had gone disco; the decade like the sky dripping
onto the wooden floor.
I wrote a story about our futures. I wrote that some days the clouds wore dark aprons across the plain
like farmers, standing at evening, hosing
down the emptied yards, dreaming they were loose forwards in the rain. I wrote that the sheds
looked like distant solar systems. I wrote
that I dreamt our hearts would descend like spaceships in the dark.
|