Poem by Allan Lake

Beached in Western Australia


I walk south in dry heat for over an hour 
and there’s no end of it. Sand pristine 
as vast Indian Ocean that crashes and 
sweeps, that crashes and sweeps and  
Hit me again, ocean. Chill out sun.
Where in heaven are Joni’s clouds
when one needs them? Sun of a beach.

People advise me to move to Melbourne, 
to moody east coast where it’s cooler 
in every way, nearer my offspring 
that sprang to other side of this island
continent. My hunch is that the distance 
suits all involved. Annual visits must 
then become special. Sunburnt Santa, 
bearing gifts, decends from the clouds 
just once per year.

They’re busy people and I shall remain 
way over here, where I coast along 
this margin and gift sand my foot-
prints until it cannot be 
bothered hanging 
on  to  them 
anymore. 

About the Poet:

Allan Lake is a migrant poet from Allover, Canada who now lives in Allover, Australia. Coincidence. His latest chapbook of poems, entitled ‘My Photos of Sicily’, was published by Ginninderra Press. It contains no photos, only poems.