SUBLIMINAL ON ANZAC DAY

–1–

rosemary
I stop for a while
deep in thought

fallen leaves
by moonlight she
sweeps the Cenotaph

shoe polish 
birds and dogs are stirring
in this small town

waxing moon sets                                            
chills the airmen
before dawn

silent unseen watchers
I motion the airmen
to order

I take a deep breath
of sulphur and brine
no   –   it’s eucalypt and pine.

a liminal breath:
a last thing
that seems a first thing

with this breath I will blow away the night and
summon up
a day to remember.

CATAFALQUE PARTY, BY THE RIGHT, QUICK  —-

–2–

at noon from the open window
breathing rosemary scent
I watch;

watch the woman who
through the ceremony
stood at the back, alone,

her chin on the back of
her hands crossed on
the end of her broom,

never taking her eyes
from the airmen
who rested on arms reversed.

fallen leaves
with the sun full high
she sweeps the Cenotaph

–3–

at sunset, no-one notices
the masterless dog
leave the crowded bar,

patrol the park,
mark all the significant spots,
including the Cenotaph.

on a porch – a bristly brush
just like his master’s touch
to rest against tonight

searching without rest
the dog who lost his master
knows rosemary best