Tuesday poem: Sandpit

May 4, 2023

So I wanted toy cars and trains, but was never given them. No matter, the boy over the road had plenty, and we’d construct paradises of zoom in his sandpit, trucks and cars jostling, even train carriages illicitly removed from inside model tracks. I remember once, sick with German measles, spotty as a Dalmatian, that a book about trains was lent to me, and I read the pictures, fever-driven, transplanted them to the sandpit by pure will, where my friend continued to build roads and water-marked tracks, temporary maps to a place where time stood still, and red vehicles bloomed.

PS Cottier

2 Responses to “Tuesday poem: Sandpit”

  1. catherine.vandermark0@gmail.com said

    Hi Penelope – I love this one!
    I’ve been on your circulation list for years now and it’s about time I said thank you. I live in Alice Springs at the moment but was in Canberra around Christmas last year. I had lunch with a friend at Tilleys and saw you there – but didn’t make the connection until I was on the way out. You were looking happy and relaxed, as though roughly 25 years hadn’t passed since you came to live in O’Connor. I once lived near you, and I think we once worked together in a public service department but can’t remember where. And did you once tell me your partner’s motorbike had a heated seat (? Could that be true?)
    Anyway, enough nostalgia. Making the commitment to be a poet first and foremost was clearly and excellent decision.
    Catherine Vandermark x

    • pscottier said

      Oh My Galaxy! Yes, we worked at the National Film and Sound Archive, together, briefly.

      Weirdly, I was in Tilley’s when I read your comment tonight.

      BMW motorcycles had heated handlebars way back when, maybe seats as well now? My Mustang does.

      Lovely to hear from you from Alice Springs.

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