The Red Leaf
An arm, attached to a man
Who used to be a house painter
Pulls a steel lever
Attached to a precision machine
Which goes bang.
The man comments on the fact
That something needs oiling,
And can someone give him a cigarette?
A tree shakes in the Autumn breeze,
A red leaf breaks loose from a branch.
A projectile emerges from the machine,
And hurtles on its pre-destined, precisely calculated
Describing a graceful arc through the air;
A white cloud, rimmed in sky blue
Can only watch its passage,
Hard and shiny
Screaming downward through the empty air.
A red leaf floats down on the breeze.
In the scruffy yard of a pock-marked
With a rusty car and oil drums
To decorate the sandbags
Dragomir and Tanya play a simple game of tag
And a toddler laughs and points
At an Autumn leaf, floating in the air;
His granny smiles and claps her hands
And wishes her daughter were still alive.
The painters missile falls to earth
With a loud Bang.
Dragomir never caught Tanya:
They both lie, shattered and ugly
And blood flows like paint from a spilt pot.
The toddlers laughter turns to silence
He gazes, bemused, at his arm
Which no longer has a hand to point
And wonders why he cannot hear
His grannys screams.
If you've any comments on this poem, Doug Kennedy would be
pleased to hear from you.