Ian C. Smith

Ian C Smith’s work has appeared in Axon:Creative Explorations,The Best Australian Poetry,Chiron Review, Island, Southerly,& Westerly. His fifth book is Contains Language,Ginninderra Press (Adelaide). He lives in the Gippsland Lakes area of Victoria, Australia.

Fifty

These fugitive days, the age of yearning,
memory like hunger sniffing for clues,
unforgettable sojourns far from chatter,
echoes, literary expectations.
The girl at my wedding, Venus,
two figures on a bed that hot night.

Tempestuous caravan gipsy days
dazzled by the golden light, fires,
voices in the dark, tango, serenade.
The heart’s shifting fortunes
when life gets bitter and sad.
Evening departure, reeling.

Youthful wife your hair was so yellow.
Mistakes, small mercies, dis-ease,
the erosion of originality.
The whisky voyages here, where I work,
shelter, some kind of redemption.
I’ve seen you five times, a woman in the rain.

Word addict, so I read a lot.
The elusive ache of things, melancholia,
ghosts, the darkling plain blasted.
Wet Tuesday seventeen years on.
Remember me, my love? I know, I know.
This is serious. Listen to me.

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