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Thylazine: The Australian Journal of Arts, Ethics & Literature                                                                                                                                 #12/thyla12k-ja AUSTRALIAN POETS SERIES 12 The Poetry of Jude Aquilina Selected by Coral Hull [Above] Photo of Jude Aquilina by Britanny Ramsey, 2006. I Hot Water I Knifing the Ice I Eagle on a Chain From a photograph, 1922, SA I The Stone Shoes I I The Call I Evensong I Hot Water In the blistered bathroom of my old house the silver gas heater reigned supreme burnt into us all a mark of respect. Visitors cowered before it like dogs clutching towels and yelping for help as Krakatoa spat. I eventually learnt to twiddle the taps between cold and scald, made it suffer long hours of hair-washing and love songs. The shower nozzle on its rusty stem was the head of a giant sunflower, warm seeds of rain would fall pelting skin and purging senses. I was always ashamed of our monster, longed for chrome, plastic taps, a cubicle in amber glass. Yet now I have my dream, a Rheem with a nozzle that sprays like a tom I long for the strong and throbbing beat: the hot breath of my old flame. Published in Knifing the Ice (Wakefield Press, 2000). Knifing the Ice I forced the Simpson to abdicate. Switched off from duty, its empire crumbles to my deft blade. Marble white ruins fill my sink. Bread tags float like the Armada. For three generations women have performed the ritual; endured the smarting pain to rid the fridge of its lining. More than nine months since I last padded the floor with old towels and waited for the trickle. Tonight, I eat a feast of defrosted food to celebrate kitchen victory, a new cycle. Published in Westerly (Australia). Eagle on a Chain From a photograph, 1922, SA A nest-warm fledgling, seized as gun shots echoed the death of its mother. A downy wedge-tail, born to be king of the sky. Fed and fettered his slavery began, a manacle around a scaly leg, permanently cuffed and linked by a long chain to a gum tree stump; given squabs and ducklings to cultivate a taste for bird. As he grew so did the avian meals until he learned to rip at feathers, flesh and sinew. Hunched and alert, the great bird played security guard, swooped on any trespassing wings that dared to pillage the vines of his master. Always scanning the air, he eyed other birds in flight, a look of longing on his tilted head. He tried the boundaries again and again, tested the length of chain, carved an invisible dome of despair. He never knew the meaning of soar. Published in Birds of the Adelaide Plains (Australia). The Stone Shoes A quiet child, left alone to read, make craft pictures from seeds or drip candle wax onto finger tips. I'd gorge myself on horror stories and mixed lollies; take long bike rides to look into other people's lives. Yet my feet and nostrils shied at a certain farm. We can't go home without seeing uncle and aunt, mother would say. The animals there wore sad, dirty faces and their water was always green; carcasses hung in the killing shed where blowflies ruled the air. I sat close to mother in the oily kitchen. Go and play, auntie would say. Mind the dogs. I didn't care to see weeping eyed cats, or rooster feet around the stump, or the pigs that drank pig-blood as uncle burnt the hair from a dripping rump. My shoes stayed weighted by my mother's skirt. And wind blew the farm away. Published in Poetrix (Australia). The Call Let's go down to the beach, they say, in every coastal town. Cars cruise toward magnetic sand, where short skirts walk invisible dogs and horns honk pheromones into dusk. A subliminal summer undertow helps lovers to dare deeper water. Walking the white edge or dancing beside a beach fire they succumb to the sea-drug, the sunset pre-med. Even in grey months, young bucks strut the promenade. The chill winds fuel their chests, make their lips sting for the salt of a kiss. And the thrill of a moonlit stroll, silver waves surging. There is a track through mounds of dunes to a spot where salt bush forms a soft raft. Published in Quadrant (Australia). Evensong I stitch an invisible seam as I tap my eucalypt stick along this autumn street. Early evening is embroidered with wood-smoke ribbons, the tiny bells of crickets. Aged grass glows biblical yellow as a heat-wave sweeps under a cool thatch of new cloud. Opaline sky jaggers with light, a choir of crows hark hark a rebirth. I am a tall shadow in the low-slung light of late afternoon. The under-sides of petals glow. The chenille sky is edged with tassels of musk pink cloud. Human transparencies shine from curtained frames. A television smudges the still life in that hour of communion before blinds are drawn. I glance in, a voyeur of moments, patterns in each patch of this quilt of yards. The moon is the tip of an egg in a nest of chimneys. Between gate posts, a white orb weaver sets her round table. And I wish for more evenings like this, to drift ghostly on this humble and homely stage, to play the role of no-one, but shine inside at the thought of my part, my walk so brief with a storm sniffing at my heels. Published in Tears in the Fence (UK). About the Poet Jude Aquilina Jude Aquilina lives in the Adelaide Hills where she keeps free-range geese and bantams (as pets). She enjoys full-moon bush walks and photography. Her poetry has been published in newspapers and literary journals across Australia and in the UK and US. She has published two collections with Wakefield Press: Knifing the Ice in 2000 (Winner of the Friendly Street Single Poet's Collection) and On a moon spiced night in 2004. Jude is Office Manager of the SA Writers' Centre, where she feels privileged to meet writers daily and hear about their writing projects and life experiences. She also runs creative writing workshops for school students and adults, and has edited others' poetry together with a number of anthologies including Friendly Street #24. She has mentored for the Smith Family and for the SA Youth Arts Board, and is a member of The Poets' Union and PEN (Poets, Essayists and Novelists - for imprisoned writers). Jude believes in 'Poetry for the masses' and finds great pleasure in bringing non-poets (people who are sometimes put off at school and have never gone back to poetry) to contemporary poetry. Jude is a regular reader at Friendly Street Poets in Adelaide, South Australia.    [Above] Photo of Jude Aquilina by Britanny Ramsey, 2006. I Next I Back I Exit I Thylazine No.12 (June, 2007)