Tuesday poem: (haiku)

October 29, 2013

Germs hitch-hike
drift in pink balloons
star-man’s lungs

Yes, I’m afraid that use of the wonderful Japanese form of the haiku in these pages (if a blog has pages) is an indication of intense busy-ness. As the anthology The Stars Like Sand: Australian Speculative Poetry demands more of my time, my poor blog has been somewhat neglected. My apologies, dear followers!

This wee SF poem thing was first published in the United States, in Scifaikuest, way back in February 2010.

Press this feather and go to New Zealand, where the hub poem is also about explorers, in a sense. And the country not known as South Canada:
Tuesday Poem


Yes, lock the door. Tight. Check and check again.
Did you move the spare key hidden under the concrete swagman?
The unlucky swagman who drowned himself in the iconic creek?
Open door. Remove key. Lock door. Check and check again.

Make a cup of tea. Kettle is broken. Use the stove.
Sip slowly; only twelve hours to go. Enjoy the aroma. Peace.
God, God, do you smell gas? Yes, yes; check the stove for leaks.
Check each knob for verticality. Check and check again.

Germs! There are always germs. Clean and clean again.
Polish the door handles. Remove all swagman germs.
Clean the cup, the stove, the pot. Scrub hands. Disinfect.
Judas germs hide under nails. Check and check again.

Slip once and slip again. Polish is so slip slippery;
floors are ice-rinks to ug-boots. You trip and fall;
fall into the bath of steaming Dettol. Can’t move.
Broken neck. Swagman’s death. Die and die again.

P.S. Cottier

*Paraskavedekatriaphobia is the morbid fear of Friday the 13th.

‘Paraskavedekatriaphobia’ published in ACT Writers Centre Poets’ Lunch anthology (Boris Books) called Friday 13th. Selected by Michael Byrne and Paul Kooperman.

Lots of fun to write a poem laughing at irrational fears. So long as they are other people’s irrational fears, hm?

Now I promise that the following feather, although black, has no evil powers or even tendencies. Click it, fly to New Zealand, read poetry.

Just avoid any flying concrete swagmen on the way.

Tuesday Poem