like something i’ve put in the small drawer
of a dresser
(slid the drawer in while i was unawares) –
and now cannot find
nor know what it was –
like something that a tribe
buried in the land
and then the farming folk
(generations later)
made plots and grazed sheep
changing it all –
something i want to get back to
like last summer
when sulphur crested cockatoos
screeched garrulously
at the window in full flight –
or years ago when lorikeets
flocked cacophonous
to a dead tree at dusk –
until they cut it down
for fear it would fall –
or like eros making a flying intervention
dramatic but needed –
something about dark sleep in that drawer
a sadness each day that i can’t get to
