THE NEGLECTED CHILD
i'm pulling my green musical turtle along
by its thin yellow cord/ & the cardboard
pelican with wobbling feet/ & big orange
beak empty of fish/ it says: clackclack
clackclack clackclack/ as i pull it along
the concrete/ the rubber hose whips
out of the pool/ like an emerald snake
rearing up to strike/ with the pressure
of water inside/ it slaps onto the grass
in coils/ it floods the yard & hot white
concrete bakes & whistles/ as tiny black
centipedes rush to dry land between my
toes/
there is no footfall behind me or
for me to follow/ so i follow the fast
movements of butterflies or clouds/ i lie
on the trampoline at night/ but fall
asleep like a bird/ before my eyes can
follow the stars/ in the morning long
hours are spent cross-legged in front of
a mirror/ with buttons loose on a little
orange cardigan knitted by my mother/ &
tartan trousers on chubby legs & red
kindergarten smock with blue polka dots/
i sit eating biscuits or chips/ looking
into the reflection/ being filled up like
a petrol tank/ there is no one to see me
eating/
the mirror says: little girl/ & the
polka dots shine like blue suns & my
tartan pants glow warmly/ & my dolls are
lined up on the pink bedspread/ they have
turned to watch me because they love me/
pretty soon the chatter amongst my barbies
starts up/ the jigsaw puzzles & picture
books are talking to me/ & on the bugs
bunny radio i am talked about & sung
about/ birds come down onto the dull grey
fence outside my bedroom window to check
if i'm alright/
& my rat who has betrayed
me by dying/ & turning into nothing but a
powdery skeleton/ is rustling around on
the wallpaper/ & then god comes in from
the blue day/ & i shine brighter than my
fish tank light & sad suspended fish/ who
speak through telepathy/ who will never
leave me/ & frontyard insects say: come
outside & play/ i know that insects don't
live for long/ & they want me to die with
them/ & my lonely rat wants me to join my
bones with his/ beneath my grandfather's
spinach patch/
then a turtle wanders in
through the driveway/ past the number
sixty-six letterbox & open wrought-iron
gate/ it is a dull rainy day/ grey sky
pounds on the dark mossy shell/ whilst
our black & white cats flex razor claws
inside fluffy pads/ viewing the turtle's
slow entrance/ & then some ghosts hover
around for a while/ one is icy cold as it
passes like fog/ the god light inside me
flickers as if to go out/ as the ghosts
move off down the street/
i stand in the
backyard sandpit & scream/ there is no
one to tell me to stop/ the child welfare
comes to visit my mother/ after receiving
complaints from the neighbours/ & i see
mum leaning tiptoes over the back fence/
reassuring our neighbour: she just screams/
on saturday my brothers & i chuck rocks
onto the roof of the house next door/ & we
don't stop until every house in our street
has been hit/ then a magnificent shot
from dale/ as a big marble stone breaks
a window/ clearing the air like a bell | 
