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Sport 35: Winter 2007

Therese Lloyd

page 144

Therese Lloyd


The fridge had an invisible leak
so that slowly the house
filled up with the smell of fish—
its small metal feet
sank through the carpet
down to the wooden floor boards.

On the balcony
we talked about breaking up,
you with yours
and me with mine.
The ocean underneath
kindly sucked up our words.
You told me about the painter,
how there was something there
but you weren't sure what,
and one kid later
I guess you were right.

In the house with the rotten carpet
everything is suspended
so the baby with wings
he can't use yet
will stay low to the ground for the moment
only ever pointing and saying 'up'.

page 145

Above the Auto-dismantler Shop

Underneath me:
a bunch of kids,
all pissed and slack limbed,
lopsided mouths
and jokes with no punchlines,
boys in their teens
leaning into adulthood.

One slaps his hands
barks like a seal,
a girl laughs and hoicks.

On the end wall of this room
hang two seascapes—
they are of warm dusky nights
with mountains like hope on the horizon.

One makes me think of Poseidon
lurking beneath the surface,
an earthquake suppressed under his palm.

The other has a bar of light
horizontal across the centre
like the quiet boy downstairs,
who laughs only occasionally.

page 146


They must have swum out early,
at least three hundred of them
surging back and forth.

People like moles
emerged from inside their homes
clustering under door frames and balconies
to watch them.

We put a crate on the deck
and each took turns at standing on it
making little gasping noises
when one jumped or turned.

Eventually, guiltily, we grew tired of them
and retreated back inside to the warmth.

It was late afternoon
before they crossed my mind again.

I went to the window
and in the far distance
the dolphins were still there
moving back and forwards,
not really going anywhere.