C

 

[C]

 

Saturday night’s fever party had soul

Sunday’s mind redefined flower power

Monday went to water, glassfuls an hour

Tuesday’s torso was shake, rattle and roll

 

I took the test, the rat was negative

my eardrums The Future Sound of London

I lived on toast, reading gone sheer humdrum

trams are covid-on-wheels, it’s suggestive

 

Wednesday’s landscapes survived on panadol

Thursday’s dreams were Hieronymus Bosch

Friday’s rat was another universe

with T for Test yes and yes C, Control

Saturday’s words will be golly and gosh

Sunday isolation, like life in reverse.

 

C (May)

[Memory game on the 5.30pm Hurstbridge express. Rules: C places, the first to mind, first memory] Camperdown: airy hill views from the monastery. Copenhagen: birch trees and running streams in the snow. Cardiff: black walls of buildings and glowing windows. Cheltenham: plethora of eucalyptus golf courses. Como: blue shadows where the lake meets palazzi jetties. Cavendish: wearing runners in yabbie dams. Christchurch: bluestone churches and white clouds. Coolangatta: bus windows. Canberra: flat spaces and upright artefacts. Cologne: spilt-level 60s where carpet bombs landed. Carlton: cheap terraces for twenty-somethings. Calais: seagulls and beers. Cambridge: black fields and greenest grass. [May 2018]

C (February)

C is for Cricket that, like the alphabet, we learned from early, a game in which one player defended his stumps from another player. School ovals echoed willow, gasped with what if. We graduated to aerial heroics of Test supermen, swotted through February the records for spin, fours, centuries. Some people called this Wisden. Our idols’ sunburn and Kookaburra-polished trousers were the pink bits on which Empire never set. D is for Disillusion when we learn, late, like it wasn’t obvious, cricket is a game in which one player defends his stumps from another player. Some people call this Wisdom.

C (September)

August, the census computer seized up. Explanations were contradictory. Clocks continued. Cynicism went viral. Who was in charge? Come September citizens turned to paper. Make it easier to cope, fill the squares with calligraphy. Contribute your ciphers for their consideration. ‘No religion’, meaningless category. Consider the religion of the census. Convinced consumer. Capitalist cog. Salary slave. Productivity person. Commercial viability. Tick one box only. In the name of selfishness, anything is allowed. Confidentiality is assured. Answers must be correct. Do not include your cats. It confuses calculations. Sign. Insert in blue envelope. Join the ciphers. The barcode must face out.