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Today won't be her eternity

  • 23 February 2016
    Mirrors   In every corner of every room Where God's urinating again: Moody as Melbourne She looks in And sees what's left behind: A diminished ninth (no-one will perform). Doused in the downpour Walls crumbling, she rushes To correct the proofs Of her existence.  She said she'll never write a book And she hasn't: that's no book, it's a drop of experience Infused with the spirit of Sabi.  Like it or not Today won't be her eternity, Alcoholically she Soils God with sour tears. The last time I saw her Was in the obituary column: Golden as always Walking barefoot, cigarette in hand Reflecting the sun's anonymity.   Inspired by Andrei Tarkovsky's The Mirror (1975)   — Nick Trakakis         An encounter in New York   From inside steel and spans Hard marble and thrusting elevators We emerge out of grandeur To come together in a world. Scratching stone Ruffling feathers Beak preening and tufts of down We share the blasts and flecks of rain Closeness to the sky in an expected spray of wings.   But then comes our fall. So wanting To delightfully frame our wonder Up go grasping walls of cell phones and cameras To capture you, so, so near yet so far: But you know not the wrought technology Of our bars.   O sail, sail away on moving walls of wind! Become a shooting speck in the sky Leave us captives within our massive monument of ego O messenger from God! Bird on the balustrade, 86th floor Observation Deck, Empire State.   — Oscar Roos


N. N. Trakakis is a senior lecturer in philosophy at Australian Catholic University. His most recent poetry collection is Appearance and Reality. He is the editor of Southern Sun, Aegean Light: Poetry of Second-Generation Greek-Australians.

Oscar Roos is a senior lecturer in the Faculty of Business and Law at Deakin University.