Dolphins

Cement bags shore
bulrushes
wooden sleepers
casurina obesa
limestone blocks
jarrah jetty
eucalyptus marginate
old car tyre
concrete slabs
a cormorant, still baking
its black feathers
moving in water reflection
caustic lighting.

Bamboo stands
fallen tree
banks quite high
fresh kills, land fill
a stratum of ripples
gravel blocks concreted
together, piles of palms
dirt bank
broken brick bank
deck chairs, a deck across branches
fence between houses
a movement underwater
makes ripples
eucalyptus rudis, a swing
the green leaves yellow in morning light
you can heard eastern highway throbbing
violence, the wake
high tide algae
constant smashing of foamy water
a shag swallowing a fish
the paddle breaking the surface
knock of metal on canoe wood.

Sand, cream grey orange
many footprints
a divet you can see the bottom in the water
but the sky, the shimmering trees
a twenty eight, rosellas ripping
tuarts to pieces
a rubbish truck, its dinosaur armature
great roots occasion the air
a tree rerooted after fall.
The fall loud and raucous in early morning
when owls chase mice
smashing their skulls
single skulls, single rocks
a blue heron pulls up on a log
blue rocks, a moved quarry
a house worth of blue metal
looks quarry-like as a bank
the shore stabilised
by a inflated yellow balloon
a house worth of blue metal
dumped in the river.

Cyclist.

We move into the cool dark,
the long line
the earth moved
two times a day
shadows marking the edge
of the channel
mulloway stalk prawns
mullet jump, sometimes
ten at once all around the canoe
half a dozen dolphins
in a feeding frenzy
a sudden feeling of excitement,
we move closer.

The dolphins roll, a dog, barking
swims out to eat them.

To play with brushmatressing,
parallel to waves, dolphins
settle, galahs fire up, squawking
sickly dorsal fins, their breathing
almost too often, thrashing
and violence the arch of their back,
Redcliffe bridge in the background.

For Patrick Ford

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