Poem: “Brisbane haiku”

accordion’s squall
twisting through bunched streets
crow’s neck distends

unexpected rain
the humid walls exhale
roast queenslander

slick black umbrella
bounces at a snapped joint
fallen bat

toowong traffic yawns
ghost-tram arrives earlier
than council bus

crowded station
arched spines against metal
bare tracks curve away 

backyard mangoes
swell, yellow and fall
in your absence

bushland
ironbarks one by one
telephone pole

Francis Thompson and Zenobia Frost
First printed in Petrichor, 2011

Poem: “Finding/Losing”

This is the land of your poems.
The trees covet sky and water;
droplets leap from miles up
and wash away our windshield.

This road is overwhelmed, bumping
its shoulders with the ankles of trees
who don’t perceive the winding below.
We slip by unnoticed,

too small to be considered
anything but ground dwellers
snuffling for mushrooms.
Really, we are here to gather ourselves.

We pass seven cordoned rockfalls:
a sign to scratch off the seven days
we have gathered like barnacles.
We hide in the scent of the forest,

relearning stillness with a quiet engine.

 

Zenobia Frost and Francis Thompson (in collaboration)
First printed in Petrichor, 2011