Good Grief

First published in StylusLit, Issue 14, Sep 2023

pelican watercolour at Wynnum Foreshore, 1981 | for Dad

I sit on cyan timber slats

at your feet, start a poem for you.

Years from now, you’ll let your art go

but here: you’re still sketching

in art college, painting a watercolour.

A pelican on a telegraph pole

bristles its feathers to a gust

as you gently flourish the coastline

with brushstrokes, curl a shushed breeze

through marram grass.

I hear a thick glob splatter

down your back. Good grief, the reek

of digested fish guts my nostrils. I can’t help

but laugh as you peel off

your shirt, pack your supplies,

drive us home. Sitting beside you, bare feet

on the dash, I go to give you my shirt

and forget this is a poem.