When to speak up?
I felt a little chastened by my brother’s indifference
then moved by the big guy’s take on egalitarianism
had decided to say nothing,
then valour thought better of discretion.
I tell him it’s a really good thing they’re doing
“mate,” he booms,
tone and volume seldom heard in a hospital
“ I’m really pleased to be able to do this ”
then waves an arm around
“ it’s not just me mate,
its these guys too,
they raised the money to pay for it,
a year’s work mate –
a year of sausage sizzles, bar raffles, quiz nights,
I’m really proud of them.”
Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand.
Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.
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