In today’s Poet’s Corner, Rory Harris of Adelaide gives some more bygone views of suburbs, kin and childhood.

wrap

the bird, maybe
a sparrow

wrapped its claws
around the overhead line

& as kids
we would go inside

the closest house
& turn on a light

& return to the street
electric with excitement

expecting to see
a body of feathers

fall fluttering death
on a street we believed

would last forever

garden

your son & my daughters
can strip all the green

tomatoes from their bushes
in one afternoon

it takes a little longer
for your husband to leave

find a lover & move in
but only just

Rory Harris teaches at CBC Wakefield Street, South Australia.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. A poetry book will be awarded to each contributor.