C.M. Parsons



It’s a fortress
of weatherboard
alone, on top
of the empty horizon
where the dust of roads away began

The washing line stretched out
catching some atmospheric bounce
blind bay windows heliographing abandonment
a wavy sentinel fence keeping the GREAT RUSTING WATER TANK at bay
away from the secrets of the back garden

Go across looped coils of blackberry
past a gray outhouse, still on duty
a shed that has some skins moldering into the wood
camouflage shadows of vegetable patches showing through long grass
where crumbling angels guard
a lichened orchard

Over-run in broom and gorse
circling just one tree
where questions started
away from the wind
when the barrage has ended
and it’s Armistice quiet



C.M. Parsons writes: “Longitudes comes from an underlying sense of warfare and struggle, as Europeans try and maintain an imposed existence on various landscapes of Australasia. The underlying landscape always manages to seep through our ordered gardens and plantations. Symbolic, I believe, of unresolved cultural and spiritual conundrums facing Europeans transplanted into this end of the world.”