LAUGHTER FROM THE WINDOW
I
always my father/ would stand at the kitchen
sink/ behind the thick dull glass/ of a morning
hangover/ whilst neighbourhood kids/ played on
the lawn/ emerald clover & tonnes of squat white
flowers/ brushing past ankles/ or in fast movement/
to where the winds took them/ spirited children/
bending in blueness/ & streaming like seed gusts/
one bee-sting/ & summer is the enemy/ the nature
of pain cautions me/ & the extreme penetration
of poison/ into the childhood body/ my father
saw/ spat water into the kitchen sink/ choking
on bex powders/ his brilliant laughter/ cascading/
the scent of pollen/ the insect dying/ trapped
between my foot & sandal/ my fear catching my
breath/ of faint stillness/ i sulking on bee-sting
numbness/ with little resistance/ to guard my
innocence/ from the double-edged sting
II
him drunk/ cushion throwing/ we loved it/ kids
excited/ into well past bedtime/ kids that would
never get to sleep/ with their father drunk/ in a
game of drunkenness/ & ornament smashing/ sprawled
on the carpet/ three running past him/ blind cushion
throwing/ one kick to the chest/ squealing/ & him
grabbing my ankle/ & the scream/ of shocked darkness/
knife wedged quick/ between the eyes of forehead/
i went pounding into the bedhead corner/ blood gushing/
my mother's fear of childhood blindness/ yet back in
the loungeroom adjoining/ buried in cushions & whisky/
came my father's hysterical laughter/ it took twelve
minutes for him to regain his composure/ before he
drove us to the children's hospital/ my faint hearted
mother/ her head pressed firmly between her knees/
in the surgery/ game over | 
