Title: Sport 23: Spring 1999

Publication details: Fergus Barrowman, November 1999

Part of: Sport

Conditions of use



    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Sport 23: Spring 1999

Geoff Cochrane

Geoff Cochrane

page 170

Beyond the Pale

Your face is broad,
familiar as light.
You're altogether
blonde-maned and modern.

Defied, I dream
an African surrender
(envenomed arrows,
spears and penis-sheaths),
the anxious gut-to-gut
of darkest betrothal.

page 171


Between the city and me
was only an ancient door
I'd painted orange.

Mounting treacherous steps,
Peter Olds brought sausages and plonk.
The wardrobe contained
a thousand and one empties.
In the fullness of time,
someone would smash the big mirror.

My father dies;
I'm diagnosed as having … never mind;
my longing for a leggy journalist
is slowly starved to death.

Yes, where I heal I'm bland.
A coffee bar provides
festivity enough, my daily fix.
I read the blackboard chalked in limes and pinks:
Obey you thirst
Bacon and Eggs, $6.00
Extract me the soldier from the sputnik.

My melting moment tastes of garlic.

page 172

Elected Silence

When his breakdown occurred,
he took to wearing industrial earmuffs.
‘If I ever come right, Geoff,
we'll get pissed together
and sing some songs.’

The city is a catchment area.
An oblong Tartar god
shelters a frieze of kine.

Lying awake last night,
I listened to the cries
of the woman being screwed
by the swarthy Turk upstairs—
heartbreaking sounds, let's face it.