the Opera House.
The ferry engine thuds in, laying
the water black blue black,
it laps against the yellow light
of Denison; to the south the green stairs
of the Boulevard, lights phosphoresce, a salt crust
sparking the South-East head, diesel perfume
and the prop’s peristalsis.
North’s a scattering red and white -
a US navy duck, unlit, like a pause,
thwacks past – a dark gap blacks the East
intensifies the metal’s clang and rattle,
the pump gags brine back to the sea.
Wind-blow and bluster
chill my body homeward from the fine
harbour of this night.
37 gulls halo the Opera House. The ferry engine thuds in, laying the water black blue black, it laps...