suns
my father
is still in
the house
he built
with his wife
those hand
held walks
after work
from three suburbs
away, to plant
a garden
as the bricks
became walls
& as the fruit
trees budded
walls became
rooms, became
a life of oranges
as big as suns
heavy & ripe
just touching
an earth
that was forever
gift
for Br James Murray cfc
along the beach
the song
of a tide
a wave
& then another
& another
unwrapping
the day
at yesterday’s eulogy
the Cathedral
bristled with tears
line
the shirt tails
of family
the threads
frayed in the wind
semaphore back
& forth
a line
of song
though a suburb
of backyards
red gum
he had
already
picked out
the tree
something
solid
a red gum
on the side
of the road
into town
or out of
depending
on circumstances
& patterns
a domestic vein
or artery
to take blood
to or away
from the heart
which stopped
beating when
he crashed
slip
this heat in autumn
rises off the walls
facing the Gulf
flutters surrender
all the rag ends
a sun cut in half
balances on
the horizon
Rory Harris is a poet and teacher. His poetry collections include Over the Outrow, From the Residence, Snapshots From a Moving Train, 16 poems, and Uncle Jack and Other Poems.