Where we live

This poem was short-listed in the Williamstown Literary Festival Seagull Poetry Prize:

A woman

hidden under bulging flesh and sallow skin

sprawls in the Westpac ATM alcove

barks out her mantra: 'Got any money?'

When I lived in India I had a policy

of giving money to three people each day

This is Footscray

Her horizontal pragmatism does not invite conversation

and I don't think she is interested

in attending any community storytelling workshops

In the shared back paddock behind our house

there is a tree planting invitation

everyone welcome

I wonder

The morning of the tree planting

jackhammers blast me from sleep at 6am

busting up bluestone to widen the streets

Not sure why this makes me sad

it's not as if I laid it

It just seems like a violent

kind of beautification