PREVIOUS TENANTS
Brisbane Plain
The wonder of an old-fashioned lawn
flat as a pitch in my backyard
I mow with grace
on scorched Sunday afternoons
dark continents of sweat
staining my silk hat
Now that he's alone he's
in the house but not of it.
Sleep is meaningless
whats the point?
The heat is a heartless banker.
he moves my friends south
one more night he spends
watching headlights cross the ceiling.