birds-eye-view of the nullabor stretching like the mulga sky fell down map flat, and folded abruptly to the sea watch the blue Kombi inside, two brothers play in a cot skin stained pink from dust; used to long swims and tent sleeps and helicopters and camp food, lots of blokes around and school of the air, over and out. and there’s Mum, huge like a battleship can’t fit behind the steering wheel these days, tired feet and happy eyes like deserts are made to measure; and Dad, casual knees akimbo brown as Tennant Creek, beard untrimmed eyes on the straight, straight road elbow nudging the breeze scene 2: the heat is measured in cicada roar and packing boxes and the smell of black markers. on a concrete verandah grandma is humming “la di di”, hair wet from the pool where she showed the boys frogs in the filter box and how to warm themselves against the garage bricks and there’s grandpa, singlet and shorts a new baby on his chest humming long, blank notes Mum’s in and out, on the phone, curly cord and yellow pants, packing, mind on full spin between Bahasa and banks and passports, feeding boys, farewelling friends and nursing her tiny, new daughter
Written for NaPoWriMo #14
Today’s challenge is a fun one: write a poem that takes the form of the opening scene of the movie of your life. Does it open with a car chase? A musical number? A long scene panning across a verdant plain? You’re the director (and also the producer, the actors, the set designer, the cinematographer, and the lowly assistant that buys doughnuts for the crew) – so it’s all up to you!