Plastic Flowers

Plastic flowers, chemical dyes
piggledy shelved
something despised.
Fluoro yellow
slight purple-pink
luscious – dark green with veins
blood red and wedding white
high tension blue
tea-tree bush
all in a two dollar polyester shop.

Who wants them?
The widower – to honour the dead
among the tumble of headstones, dates and type
tearing and choosing red from blue.
The tenant – clinging to their crib
brighten up a corner
a nod to the natural world.
The shopkeeper – seeking ambience
planted among bread,
salami, olives and cheese
or the nic-nacs from Morocco.

Looking on and in – there’s no comfort
as at the bus stop seat
tart colours meld into cold aluminium,
wind whips up Marrickville Road.
Restless, waiting,
when is it coming – soon?
When is it coming – soon, I hope.

Neil Orr lives in Sydney with his family and works in epidemiology for the New South Wales Ministry of Health. His first university degree included an English elective, and he accredits a love of poetry, and its analysis, to a dinner with an English teacher.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.