by J F Garrow

In the atrium, at the entrance, of Kmart, in Warragul there are birds living,
Which waiting I watch.

And high up inside this atrium, which is the entrance, to Kmart in Warragul there are
birds living, which waiting I watch.

Birds, living up there, inside, flying, and living, inside, that atrium, waiting
I watch their flying and see their living up there in the air in that space in the
atrium of Kmart at Warragul.

Birds that are cutting, with violent and desperate pelts, the air up there and the
space up there – little black and dark little pelts across the air and the space up
there: cutting space with me watching.

But, then, also, they finish their flights and perch in corners these birds do, awkward
black and dark little forms they are, with just some small part even of this shape
showing me from where I can see, waiting, while I watch and seeing them these
birds high up at the entrance of Kmart.

So that in the atrium up there the birds are living and darting, across the space,
Opening that space right there,
Cutting that space right up.

And I might say that these birds
Are the fight and the flight in my eyes
and my mind, and my sight.