Poem: Brumal
This week’s winter-themed contribution to Poet’s Corner is from Glenn McPherson.
Brumal
George’s River, Wedderburn
I check a lid-sized hole
On the riverbank
In a boulder thick with copper
Moss, for ice.
A clean press from the butt
Of my jackknife breaks
True.
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This side of the valley,
This end of the rock, overshadowed
By an endless tract
Of swamp oak
Is without sun. Mosquito
Larvae resettle. Tadpoles
Avoid touch.
I cup my hands beneath
First one,
Then each of these
To a steel flask for my boy.
Of the quick instinct
Of a currawong hauling
A bardi grub from the heart
Of a branch
I have no memory.
I cannot bear
Absence.
Glenn McPherson lives in Sydney. Published in leading Australian poetry journals and anthologies, he has worked as a teacher for more than 20 years. Growing up in small country towns in Central Queensland and North-Western NSW, he received his teaching degree from the University of New England, followed by his Masters in Education, then Masters in Creative Writing, from The University of Sydney. He helps run a school creative journal at Broughton Anglican College, assisting students in developing skills in journalism and creative writing. They published their first edition before the COVID-19 pandemic struck, and an interview with the celebrated Australian poet, essayist and teacher Mark Tredinnick was the first to be included in the journal.