Circular Quay

Another one out into the ether. This one was inspired by Here, by Larkin. It's a sad imitation, but I was trying to experiment with evoking the sense of a place.

Circular Quay

Through foam and saltwater, her stern points

north as water would have it, not according

to some worn path, but against wind and waves –

the water too dark to be luminous;

instead according to some map of the harbour,

where headlands resemble scuffed up sleeves

hung out to dry, grasses swirling clockwise

and the widening quay's sleepy semi-circle

taking it all in: loose plastics floating,

gulls tiring, gathering towards

a motionless street performer posing

with children under a palm tree.

Here people stop to look and watch,

to wonder if she might sink or roll

in the slightest wind and whether they

would live or drown

under the weight of the wharf.

Beside ticket booths and fluoro hats,

magazine stands and boxing kangaroos

there's talk of the stockmarket, lights flashing

and buses coughing to get going

Residents of the street rolling over to catch

the day beginning like the pouring of a good wine;

the light decanted between bespoke suits

bought in Beijing, and silk ties flapping.

The gates of the train station open to

a briefcase, a twenty dollar bill

and your made up face.