Brushed with smoke trees, the headland
frames the bay and drops to calm water.
Stand on the beach and observe
that golden shoreline. A launch returns
from fishing at dawn. Not far off,
the peninsula stretches to oblivion.
A family is wading. Dispatches report
renewed hostilities, further casualties.
*
The headland, that rocky outcrop, plunges
to blue depths, defining the bay.
Out from shore, a sloop floats,
its mast like a cross. Two figures on board
bend from the gunwale — the noviciate
and the priest performing their ritual. All is calm.
On the peninsula, the temple and bell tower
lean into hill and sky. Like rockets.
*
Ripped fragment of sheet music,
the headland floats above purple waves.
Look closer, and see jumping fish,
bodies falling from the sky.
The beach is a mosaic of broken glass.
A bridge curves heavenward.
Cars crawl up the lanes, like fire ants
marching head to stinger, fleeing catastrophe.
*
The headland is a rhombus scratched
over the bay. It flames orange, red, and blue.
That oil slick, that sump of darkness,
is lumpy with corpses — fish and bird.
Yesterday, swimsuits and picnics.
Today, workers in hazmat suits.
A dense filigree of twisted bone
tells of love and fear. Peace talks resume.
*
The sea and sky fuse together. Here is a bay,
formed by a headland, with smoky banksia.
Everything is dreamlike. As if this land
belongs to no one, until we take a closer look —
find symbols, long-held secrets.
This painting was made with feather arc
and patterned dots on burned bark.
Red lines for voyages, ancient trade routes.
–
Michael Mintrom lives in Melbourne, Australia. His poetry has recently appeared in Amsterdam Quarterly, Blue Mountain Review, London Grip, Stone Poetry Quarterly, and Syncopation Literary Journal.
© 2025, Michael Mintrom
Halfway Down the Stairs 