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| Lyn Chatham's 'beast', Mount Elephant, rises from Victoria's basalt plain. |
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| Photo by Graeme Kinross-Smith, 1999. |
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The beast sits over its dot on the map
and under its good side,
wound hidden,
I giggle through tennis,
eat thick tall sponges,
Ladies Auxiliary Sandwiches and fat hot dogs
drink strong tea from blue enamelled pots.
In the back seat of the car
driving home from the volcano
I blush when the stock agent
says the heave of its rump,
the flap of its ear, is the chest
of a blonde-haired starlet
playing to the camera
Past spare paddocks,
neat lines of wind-
breaking trees, the agent drops me
at our shearing shed
where ewe-girls shiver at the blade
in bronchitis cement corners,
blokes hide in presses
away from union bosses,
Playboys sprawl on benches,
mice skitter in bedrooms
where fresh fleeces
cloud to the ceiling,
and across the plains
in a birdless stillness
falls the shadow of Mount Elephant.
Posted 13 August, 2003
Copyright Lyn Chatham
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