23 Beaver St Revisited

A front fence lined with cypresses,

a paving path to new Federation

stained glass filtering lead-lit garden segments

I remember the lemon-coloured bath, Pears Transparent Soap,

the kitchen, the hen-house, the sleep-out where Krishna lived

and Uncle Charlie, who bequeathed his body to ‘SCIENCE’

I imagine them as young people, planting those fruit trees,

things dissolve finally to new families, separations,

the unpruned fruit trees growing wild and bitter

There was a back lane, a winding path down the hill

to a park by a river, where kids whirled model aeroplanes

in tight noisy rotations in an unknowing encircling metaphor

of the future.

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