Poem

Red Shed

Drizzle brought an
early dusk
the steam crane rusts
these past 50 years

Like mechanical toys
under the red iron shed
penguins are whirring
tourists flit to
to view the blue dusk waddle

home to unregulated dwellings
apple box shacks
indifferent to blood
running rusty red
god is dead.
Civilisation
the colour of the
harbour master's shed.

by Lindsay Murray