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At the end of the day
     we have made it this far

here, a star at the water’s edge
     the one river, the one tree

low cloud skimmed wraith in the sunlight
     bright where Aristeas

steps foot over the south gate, the sandstone quay
     happily hyper

without cause on the upswing
     of pure sleep, clothed in a tempest

free &, in any case
     dreaming that

there is no comparison
     in love, in death—
a single gull turning on the sea wind
     ice a shoal on the boulevard
the west’s turquoise desert
     where jets circle, nest in the flailing sun

(you glance into fire, bloodwood
     the accommodation of resin

eucalypt, iron bark
     steel dark feathers again


[Peter Minter is a leading contemporary Australian poet, editor and scholar who lectures in Indigenous Studies and Poetics at the Koori Centre, University of Sydney. His fifth book of poetry, blue grass, is published by Salt Publishing. ]

Copyright © 2008 by Peter Minter, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.