Attracted to all things electrical, you passed along the way like a weird
storm then returned, waxing lyrical about your adventures: the glow-
worms that lit up the tropics like guide-lights on a runway; dinosaurs
grumbling in their graves; the plethora of cats that scattered when
you moonlighted as a monsoon. And what about those ant-sized,
funny-looking apes pointing up, fawning over your tresses (like
twisters they’d seen on TV)? Magical spices from across the
way incensed a certain inability to stay put — the pull of
turquoise oceans, and vermillion clouds yet to unsettle.
You left me in your wake: cities of electrons leapt from
state to state, erasing to-do lists; umbrellas lifted off;
thunderbirds and fossils quivered at your flights of
fancy dancing on their arrivals boards. I could feel
a tremor whenever you kissed another, the great
bite of opposing time zones, but no — the lure
of a new language, the smell of grass, dirt and
rain, foraging for alchemy or hang-gliding w/
juvy dragons — you came to pine for a less
personal kind of love, an ascetic on snow-
caps where landslides of quartz fell deep
through deserted lakes. After a disserta-
tion from a nomad who’d hobnobbed
with the gods, you split the atom with
a lightning rod looted from Olympic
towers — rainbows and whirlpools
erupted in the sky! It was a fitting
salute. Now here you are on my
doorstep, my old dog Cerberus
humping your leg, here you are,
replete with impulse purchases…
though who’d begrudge you the
souvenirs: a leviathan in a tea-
cup, a snow globe of the Sahara,
various trinkets from the Under-
world. Love, since you vaporized,
a cosmic war has given the stars
the creeps, I lapsed with an old
flame, the water’s been unsea-
sonably luke — I swim in vol-
canoes so my flesh can sting
like it used to. I thought you
were a myth, that the pictures
of the back of your head, sent
from distant photo-booths,
were some kind of cruel
joke. What a ruse! Remind
me never to look your way
again. Argh, scratch that:
before you vanish over
the horizon, can we ar-
range to bump into each
other at the equinox,
the southern cross or
the northern auroras,
unrepentant, on the off-
chance we might earth
each other once and
for all? or will you
pass along the way
again like a weird
storm, with a wink
and a wry smile —
lightning striking
root through
stone, the sea
going down
with the sun,
fire falling
back into
things
— the
planet
chang-
ing
sh-
ape
in
yo-
ur
e-
y-
e
?
© Toby Fitch
‘Oscillations’ was shortlisted for the Peter Porter Poetry Prize 2012 and published in Australian Book Review.
Toby Fitch’s Rawshock was a co-winner of the Grace Leven Poetry Prize, 2012. It can be purchased directly through http://puncherandwattmann.com/books/book/rawshock
Image: NASA/JPL-Caltech/Space Science Institute
Poem and Dish 