Infinite Ibis

obviously aging (headshot short ashy hair

resting poet face, hook nose) but never

old enough for Winnie Blue in a silver

drawstring handbag after hockey: the slacker

in Staggers who thought the Boomers

would have solved Aged Care by now

was I expecting to move back?

not there, to Eastern suburbs art deco

cracking frozen puddles at the tip

once a depression era shanty town

& before that you have to turn to Trove

in horror, to fathom where star-crossed lovers

shouldn’t cross the river & I try to pull off

being a dog owner & my dog dies

so I’m back to feeling like a pretender

I’ve pulled up dead kittens in a hessian sack

with a canoe paddle, put crayfish in a boiling pot

seen a platypus but I have aphantasia

so can’t picture it or Big Murray 

the 52kg cod in his concrete tank

this lit rectangle is a sinkhole in my palm

that refracts my gut biome

opening a packet of salt & vinegar chips

a bag of sherbet like ossified cocaine

Space Rocks exploded decades ago

on my tongue, as I see Artemis II on TikTok

the moon through a telescope in Coona

a tiny sacred kingfisher trapped

inside the amenities block 

as I remember childhood wisdom

like wearing thongs to avoid tinea

& worrying a bleeding mole might kill me

one bar then offline as I walk back

across the freshly mown campground

to the Snow Peak tent & firepit

or how I stopped drinking once I got my Ps

wishing @Brownhatttt would do

the Wednesday Adams’ dance

is my version of dark academia

do you realise ibis 

were once farmer’s friends?