Poem – C K Stead
Tohunga Crescent Across our street the Allen Curnow house sold and garden-tidied and refurbished, respectably letting as “AirBnB” is home to wild parties, and just once a riot bringing cop cars, a paddy wagon, pepper spray and more than one arrest. Always there’s rubbish at the roadside when the random tenants leave. Tonight by morepork and moonlight while the neighbour cats patrol I’m watching Jeny walk in her ghostly gown smiling and weeping, and here comes Allen alert with a new poem needing to know at once what I will make of it – but as I read he seems
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