I wonder sometimes whether angels are waitresses
and we spend our lives at a large table in a dim bistro.
A business man recounts the success of a trade-deal
with China while a mother relates how her son broke
his leg in training for the junior Olympics. A football match
unrolls on a corner screen backed by drunken cheers and sighs.
Roses for your lady, a migrant asks a spruce young man,
pleading with his gaze and wafting the perfumed bouquet.
And he scores! We toast with full glasses that shimmer
like dusk on the wine-dark sea and graze on plates of pretzels
that never run out. Have you heard the story about the donkey?
says a man with a bristly beard. Well, once upon a time
there lived a donkey, a very happy donkey. Every morning he went
to his trough and always found plenty of feed … Meanwhile
a mademoiselle lures the tide of her date's feeling
with her shadowed lunar eyes. At times we overhear
the decanting of a spring, glimpse silhouettes
of supple hands, a disembodied face in a tea-light's flicker
but pay little thought to these apparitions
until the waiter appears at 2 a.m. : a final round
or shall I bring the bill?
Good stuff from Luke Fischer's book 'Paths of Flight' put out by Black Pepper.
I happened to be at the Melbourne launch (jointly with Chains of Snow by Jakob
Ziguras – Pitt Street Poetry). You know how you can just happen to be at a launch.
Had a good time, heard some good work, invested in two books.