lagoon #29

it has come more quickly
than I’d expected

less than a day
since my last visit
they are revealed
in a miserable totality

while we approach
along the walking path
a young boy
a teenager
is leaving the remnant billabong
mud coating hands and legs
as he rides by
on a bicycle

he has been wading
and dabbling

a few fish
un-loved carp
are dead on the shoreline
but these don’t arrest the eye

it is the ones in the air
that make the breath catch

for they have been mounted
mouth first
onto branches of the fallen trees
that create the boundary
and structure
of the waterhole

they hang
still and dead
but water-fat and shining
only recently placed
for display

the boy calls a cheery
hello
as he rides away
smiling

I can see
one ripple

a sole escapee
waits to be claimed
by drought
or some more unspeakable
misadventure


© Frank Prem, 2006

Next Poem: parched harvest

Back to Drought/Lagoon – Introduction

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