Almanac Poetry: ‘Scales’ – Tommy Mallet

 

 

 

Scales

 

I’m tree arbouring
on the NSW south coast to pay
my way to a job in the tropics, Up North.
It’s dark at work’s end, but still hot.
There’s been no rain for months,
everything’s tinderbox.

 

Making my way down to the river, I walk along an old
forgotten jetty that almost grows from the bush.
There’s no wind, the water’s surface is
perfect,
toneless, rolling glass.

 

By looking down I can see the Milky Way.

 

A lightening storm slowly works its way over
the opposite ridge,
with very little thunder.

 

I watch the clouds beneath my feet,
dark grey and silver, caught by
distant moon.
Every time there’s more lightening
they pulse like beautiful, angry jellyfish,
in the never-ending liquid
of a river framed by a billion stars.

 

A large trout bursts from the water,
silent storms in its gills,
constellations in its gaping mouth,
black water in its lungs.

 

It holds the universe,
and time.

 

A few more do the same
upstream.

 

I take off my clothes,
place my beer by my shoes,
and dive in,
to wash off work’s grime
by swimming with prehistoric things.

 

 

 

More from Tommy Mallet HERE

 

 

More poetry from Almanac Poetry can be read HERE

 

If you would like to receive the Almanac Music and Poetry newsletter we will add you to the list. Please email us: [email protected]

 

To return to the www.footyalmanac.com.au  home page click HERE

 

Our writers are independent contributors. The opinions expressed in their articles are their own. They are not the views, nor do they reflect the views, of Malarkey Publications.

 

Do you enjoy the Almanac concept?
And want to ensure it continues in its current form, and better? To help keep things ticking over please consider making your own contribution.

 

Become an Almanac (annual) member – CLICK HERE
One-off financial contribution – CLICK HERE
Regular financial contribution (monthly EFT) – CLICK HERE