ARTLOOK #12 | June 2005
lined with finger-prints
raised by grip
trickling down his neck
on 'Loofa Alert'
And dustbowls smoothed by palm.
His sweat: the coming monsoon.
The world, a burden, a brilliant hunch
he cannot see to prove.
For perhaps the globe was lowered
or rolled right up his back.
An eternal buzz jammed in his ear:
the theory of New York.
just a hint of 'spa'
a stab in the dark
The crack of his straightening spine,
signalling the end.
NATHAN CURNOW Portland, Victoria.