The light of the town
Graham Pope (University of South Australia, Australia)
The town stood above revelation of lake, as I returned that day to a blue patterned dress, stepping into the silence of a house asleep. My hand moving over residue of years, resting, momentarily, on things touched long ago: eye-shadow called Egyptian Blue on a dresser of shiny veneer.
The town stood above revelation of lake, as I came back to my own man damp from drying towels; Gillette safety razor, dandruff comb, smell of soap beside a vaginal douche with an orange rubber bulb – my hand, for a moment, forgetting itself and moving to squeeze the thing, then remembering and falling to a place at my sides, as my eyes gaze at the bathroom mirror, at the empty room reflected back.
The town stood above revelation of lake, as I go back to a shop girl’s deft fingers counting change onto a counter of glass and steel. Her hands returning always to a place stuck in time where the wind rattles an uncomprehending pane of glass, through which she stares over the lake – lost this girl in her blue patterned dress – at the light of the town.
Graham is a PhD candidate at the University of South Australia.