As It Is!
Blackheath, New South Wales
face the Wind.
Side by side they stand,
braced, on an empty lower deck.
Hungry waves pepper their trim coats. Their mission is clear.
‘He was a bad ’un, a black sheep, a hobo, a thief,
and more; too terrible to relate. We blame the war,’
Hailed as a hero when he was a rat of Tobruk.
What turns a man to empty grace?
True to their mother’s wishes, the sisters deliver Tom into the valley of bones.
White heat reclaims his pain and reduces him to ashes.
An urn is placed in sisters’ care.
Trust Tom to choose a stormy day.
Upending the urn to the sea’s icy blast, they try to release him from his earthly cast but he flies in their faces, their clothes and sticks fast.
‘He always was a dirty bloke,’
Bio: This is one of Virginia’s Fibonacci poems which was inspired by the Blackheath Writer’s Group. You can find her book of poetry, Escarpment, on amazon. Virginia wants to thank all the supporters of this work.