by WAYNE POLLARD
What is known is forgotten.
That which is forgotten is re-enacted to be new.
I was once.
I am now.
Clouds become fans blowing air across the barren decks of
container ships.
An orchestra naked behind a plastic shower curtain
plays a tune of loss in D minor.
A crimson goose eats the bath mat.
The orchestra in shifting finds notes in A minor to alert
cockroaches to the impending removal of kerosene fridges.
During a starry night under a wooden bridge
an echidna offers solace to a platypus
saddened by purple traffic lights.
Refined white flour, baked and presented as a muffin, is given
to a wombat sleeping under a park bench.
In a bus shelter the orchestra plays out of tune.