The Friday Poem: No one in my poem is on p, by Liz Breslin
Providing water infrastructure is one of the crucial jobs of local councils.
New verse by Otago writer Liz Breslin.
No one in my poem is on p
They’re all on p in Timaru
except the student buying camel coat fabric
and the fag-waving granny saying what a to do
and the Community House security dude
arms folded, clipboard primed and plastic.
They’re all on p in Timaru,
but not the old man, aerobic walking in the pool,
his moves deliberate, elaborate, tragic,
or the mothers marking iTime, ignoring, rude,
their kids in uniforms, twirling round street poles.
High vis havoc. U ram it.
See. They’re all on p in Timaru.
The guy on the walkbridge, the trainspotting dude –
maverick notebook, hidden graphics.
Don’t say what you see, say what you knew.
And blame the drifter in his pimped out Prelude,
rushing, late, to see his fag-waving granny
quavering, cuppa tea? what a to do.
Yeah. They’re all on p in Timaru.
Liz Breslin, 2017
Liz Breslin
Liz Breslin is a writer, editor and performer of Polish and Irish descent, now living in Ōtepoti Dunedin. Liz’s poem collections are In bed with the feminists (Dead Bird Books, 2021) and Alzheimer’s and a spoon (OUP, 2017, 2021). Liz is a creative critical PhD candidate at the University of Otago, cutting and pasting scraps to warp rural settler coloniser narratives. www.lizbreslin.com
