As her to you, unhurried,
pair formations addle a skyline,
extrovert welcoming traffic, selfless despot on the inner.
Even so, his pin-cushioned face glues to the backdrop’s nest of wombats.
The city changes from one skyscraper and slate
to the creek’s bag-junked ripple,
decisive formaldehyde splitting a cloud’s anagram of discontent,
replacing slouched velodrome with mouse-topped stove.
The introduced species pursue a spalling bridge.
No purpose other than as butter pat,
styled nuptials pick a branch.

Gig Ryan

Published in Have Your Chill (2017), edited by Pete Spence.