The Split
Trailer loaded, Datsun filled
Melissa and I watch
from the kitchen.
Dad fights back tears
as Mum explains
this time it’s for good.
A musty scent permeates
our new asbestos home
on our grandparents’ farm.
The freestanding toilet bowl
a silent sentinel
in the cavernous red laundry.
Four or five to a cage
chickens squawk and peck
in haunting rhythm.
Beneath crimson carpet
wooden cellar door creaks
every time we cross.
A shallow, dry well
and rickety water tower
lurk beneath tea trees.
In the rusting tin garage
tattered cobwebs droop
into pools of grease.
Despite my childhood fears
that house shelters
my dearest memories.
Foremost the silence.
Mum’s callous temper
stilled by distance.
© A. R. Levett 2017
Melissa and I watch
from the kitchen.
Dad fights back tears
as Mum explains
this time it’s for good.
A musty scent permeates
our new asbestos home
on our grandparents’ farm.
The freestanding toilet bowl
a silent sentinel
in the cavernous red laundry.
Four or five to a cage
chickens squawk and peck
in haunting rhythm.
Beneath crimson carpet
wooden cellar door creaks
every time we cross.
A shallow, dry well
and rickety water tower
lurk beneath tea trees.
In the rusting tin garage
tattered cobwebs droop
into pools of grease.
Despite my childhood fears
that house shelters
my dearest memories.
Foremost the silence.
Mum’s callous temper
stilled by distance.
© A. R. Levett 2017
