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Melaleuca
Number 17: November 2010 Editor: Phillip A. Ellis
Table of Contents
Yours Meg Canto 03
Duet Eileen Chong 04
Minuet Eileen Chong 05
At the Katz Graham Nunn 06
Last Malobi Sinha 08
Paradise Malobi Sinha 09
The Sea Malobi Sinha 10
All works are copyright by their respective creators, 2010; the arrangement of this collection is
copyright by Phillip A. Ellis, 2010.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works2.5 Australia License .
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Yours
no hands as yours
on my parts compelled
me more. the cat
in me purred, and
you were tall again.and my chocolate room
smelt of love again.
you built a house
of glass, afraid the night
might hide my face.
but i was weakest
at each appearance of the moon.
my dress would fall:
"mine" you said, catching
my covers."yours" i said, my centre
in your mouth.
Meg Canto
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Duet
after W.C.W.
The cat glows golden
in the afternoon light
It watches the birds dip
in and out of the tree
They call sharp warnings
from their pulsing throats
The cat watches the birds
The birds wing and cry
The sun falls across the yard
in honey-gold lightEileen Chong
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Minuet
for Camilla Chen
For you,
I should like to peel
a mandarin, its oval roundness
heavy in the palm. Warm, too,
if youll wait a while. I should like
to peel it slowly, to prise away skin
from flesh with movements
of my thumb. Stroke
the tender interior encased
in lace. Pull the whole
into halves: observe its shapely cheeks,the female parts. I know
each crescent will fit
perfectly in my mouth
(and yours). I can still smell
the citrus spray
in your poem (you showed
me once). This, here, our fruit
that I should like to peel. Backand forth my fingers rock. The orange.
My hands. Your words.
Eileen Chong
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At the Katz
i.
The insect that chirps here every night
tonight is chirping under the bed.
The insect sound is cold and constant as the rain
whispering outside the window.
The sound of this insect that nightly chirps
buries its loneliness inside me.
ii.
Of this place I knowthe window houses
three pigeons under the sill.
These birds scour the roof
each night for warmth
or whatever. Two are arguing
now, for a few inches of brick.
How the mind moves out when
there is only one glass for the seeing.
I stand at the window and mark
each bird, roof, spire as the boundaries
of the neighbourhood
they define. I am wearing
my favourite black coat. Every hour
I wipe clean my eyes.
iii.
It's after midnight and a young man returning
from late shift tests what strength
he has left by kicking a bottle against
the brick work of the front wall.
Son of a bitch, he mutters. He is the collective
curse on this night that reeks of tinned fish and TV.
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iv.
I am waiting for a poem, something
simple, undisturbed by curses.
Words that release themselves
from the night. Words that come
naturally, without aiming at anything.And while I wait, I will continue
to listen to the insects and birds
at the window, hoping for sleep to arrive.
Graham Nunn
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Last
The road is long
Full of rocks and
Stones, that cut
And rub beneath your
Feet like knives; TreadThem softly, slowly
For at the end
Of your journey lies
The light; it glows
From afar, beckoning
Always, keeping faith
Alive when all
Seems lost; keep
The faith alive
In yourself, and
The panacea isAt hand at last
Malobi Sinha
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Paradise
After all it
Is the night; The
Stars come out
To view the
Tragedy that isA life; Here
Today, gone tomorrow;
What is
The meaning
If our short hours
On this Earth
Cannot be lived
As an eagle
Swooping in the sky
Gliding all the
Way to ParadiseMalobi Sinha
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The Sea
All I am
Is a river
Ebbing and
Flowing towards
The sea; TheLight in my
Life the people
Who sit by
My banks
And talk to me;
The children who
Play in my
Blue waters
The birds and animals
That drink
Of me; The SunThat sets knows
My sorrows and
The Moon lends
Her hallowed light
To the darkness
That encompasses
My night; The
River I am
Will dissolve
All your trials
And tribulations
A river is all
I am
Flowing to
The
Endless sea
Malobi Sinha
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