Be still, my beating heart, & you, body
Don’t go banging into that tree—
The one the girl turned into, back
When the gods were like they are
In the Collected Poems of A.D. Hope.
& arms stop waving and legs don’t dance
As if an invisible band was playing
A Fitzroy version of ‘Picture This’.
Consider instead this cool Melbourne
Morning & the iconic self it suggests;
The laundromat, the review you haven’t
Written yet, or choosing 5 dead certs
For an all-up bet (& when they win
You blow the lot on bills and rent!)
That’s Grace enough this mild autumn day, so
Like I say, Oh palpitations, go away!