Sunday, June 09, 2019

New Poetry by James Walton

Mallacoota guesthouse, between States

We slept in Henry Lawson’s bed
in the days when the world was wide
at a place where pelicans and kangaroos
gambolled on a horizon of lawn
sloping to the inlet jetty
all those years ago
the road to Conran closed by forbidding rains
You ate shortbreads telling me the crumbs
could never forget us
the way they disappeared in the sheets
like fish diving to or away from bait
a forever slight of need
At smuggler’s cove we rescued a penguin
the one station copper laughed
telling us to just put it back
giving us bandaids for our fingers
A long stretch of days bent our way
the veranda smell of ozone and bracken
pipe and shirt sleeves held up with elastic guards
the owner trying to find a place in the world
a Checkpoint Charlie the eye of the needle
You went through without me
just as I looked down to validate our passes

- James Walton 2019

James Walton is published in many anthologies, journals, and newspapers. His collections include 'The Leviathan's Apprentice', 'Walking Through Fences', and 'Unstill Mosaics'.

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