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From the Ferry, Looking Out
What bonds must hold these atoms’ hands
that I stand so collected,
like stamps or butterflies?
I can see my yesterdays
scattered across this river, and wonder whether
you could piece me together in different ways
by asking the inconstant water
how she would build me.
Watching twilight
shatter into street lights –
deep blue turns fog
into romance – I am looking
to complete my collection,
and I keep coming back
to Brisbane.
© Zenobia Frost
