A warm whistled day in the Apple Isle
Our car is low in lands of the devil
I’ll move like Elvis when he plays, you’ll smile
But keep your eyes on the road above sea level

We drive past caves, caravans and cattle
The ash on the road is thick and thirsty
The engine begins to shake and rattle
A new hump in our small Sunday journey

We crouch and wait on the side of the road
With no warning you brush my tangled hair
One violent pull makes me hop like a toad
Traitor! I shout and cry in deep despair

My mother; red hair, blue eyes and freckled
Hands like ginger bread biscuits with sharp nails
My mother; impatient, scared, unsettled
Teeth like rusted tic-tacs and big barbed rails

As a child you always drove me so far
As a child you always drove me crazy
My beloved, weathered and old rock star
My short candied Australian daisy

I want to be the woman you became
The felon, falcon and forbidden girl
The free spirit, fighter and feisty flame
I will wear your crown, I will wear your pearl

So for one last time, before I’m too old
Let’s play Elvis and dance in your green gold




Zoe Aronson


This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.