As we enter into the final quarter of the project, the passion for this project is unwavering… Last night, I had the pleasure of watching Cindy on location in an exquisitely lit alleyway in Brisbane, so seeing the shots this morning gave me an unexpected rush. And the knowledge that Saturday morning means a new poem in my inbox from Ashley is also an endless thrill. Fifteen weeks remaining… so while it lasts, let the light in!
ride with the motorbike courier
deliver the architect’s plans
for a site
use extra light to show all
in the entry way, done
in a high gloss
study crabs’ ability to use color
to distinguish food from poison
with this renewal of spying powers
with this killed ambassador
attend to far away things.
The slow moving river in Spring
where water lilies flower and tadpoles
bubble into frogs.
My son’s body joins their reflections
his wooden boat slipping into mid-
stream, and though I step down
into brown water that smells
of old milk tea, I cannot reach it:
my Casuarina branch only stirs
the water and propels the boat onwards.
He smiles and lifts his arms
as if it doesn’t matter;
my feet grip in the mud.
I think of Moses, drawn from the bulrushes
and how many other babies have sailed
down rivers to a lesser fate.
Then I’m back here watching the boat
drift through this shimmering day
struggling with the sudden weight
of fatherhood, as my son waves
and gurgles his sweet goodbye song.