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The Web Poetry Corner

Paula Scott


Sydney, NSW, Australia

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My Sydney


Paula Scott

My backyard rainforest is haven to cockatoos so brillliant, my skin weeps a sap of jealousy. The damp and balmy feathers mothering my exposure. Like she would have.

The wet and yellow gates of Centennial Park watch sleepily and call sleepily like the gates of Heaven. The blood-red tulips a cerebral reminder - everything is licking and sucking life just for you to stop. And listen. To the ever sinking suction fo the cappaccino sands of Bondi, where my hair is allowed to laugh at my shoulders, greasy and shiny, reflecting the big wild strawberry squashed in the bruised peach sky. And there goes my soul again as the backwash baptises the painters painting...

And the rainbow streaks to Cockle Bay Wharf at dawn. THe water there a liquid sheet of mirror forever one big teardrop imaging and reflecting the eye of the beholder. No soul here until I see her at the steps of the heavy, white-lidded eye. Clothed in linen and smiling at me, I see a ring of purity and safety encompassing her and I cry for her touch and feathery warmth. Strawberry in one hand, peach in the other. And she fades - into that closing heavy eye of the Opera.

My backyard rainforst now snapping with heavily conceived cockatoos.