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New Year’s Eve

The steering wheel bucks as the truck broaches the storm.

wind buffets lifting dust, truck and storm race to a violent embrace

lightning splits the sky, a flash of eternity to the bass crash of thunder

nature’s alchemy, rain splashes mud-blood claret across the screen

wipers thrash as blood dissolves the smudge of concussed insect-kill.

The radio calls death-scored body counts as Israel bullies Hamas

the sickening global sport running 350 to 4 in Israel’s favour

Obama awaits his coronation into a court of expectation

Rudd’s apology the story of the year by popular vote

an incubus of need, this business of unfinished business.

The sculpture of dark plum cloud holds anger for elsewhere

post-coital peace, the scape lies replete as dark gullies run life

trailers drip wet gold under piss-yellow street lights,

tropical storm passed, home in time to see the year change

we clink glasses, kill the television and listen to Joan Baez.

 

Go to Bruce Honeywill's profile to read more poems

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