sloughing off


The old and then the new, like a skin half shed, the year of the snake, the water snake, the snake of water, the hammer and the hold. Certainly not as brutal as John Betjeman, but then again, I don’t know that I’d spare the bald young clerks, either.



you are all work and no
play it by ear my dear
all marry well and retire
no fire in the belly.

lycra-sprayed bodies bounce
along your bikeway
hurtling in some
sick commitment

to rock hard abs or the arsey new year
or just getting
the fuck out
of the office cul de

sac arrangement.
on Fridays the air
fogs with yeasty exhale and
I sign off my emails

“that’s kisses
in a Queensland way”, I say.
I’m underneath

your faux-Eiffel Tower
getting a fucking eyeful
of the awful
screw you – I hate you – Milton,

we’ve been working
together too long.
This is paradise lost
to the stones

the mind the trees
the river running
the running river
the feast and the famine

the flood. Oh fuck. The flood.
I’m really sorry
for all that shit –
see you at the office Monday.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

Leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s