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Issue Three & Poetry

Melbourne, mid-winter

By Allan Lake


My chilly 50’s apartment:

beyond the pane of glass

winter-lush garden,

sun half trying.

An ineffectual middling star

lacks fire power over

World’s Most Livable City.


Didn’t want the heater on

or a bulky woolen jumper but

will opt for both anyway.

Hot tea, toast and marmalade made

of oranges from hot Sicilian hillsides.

Secret:  I like Melbourne winter.

Don’t tell a Sicilian or a brown snake.


Electric blanket gets switched on.

My icicle extremities and sense of well-being

as good as married but I do venture

out and scout for vernal signs along the canal,

round the park, along the beach

without a puppy, knowing spring arrives

just once annually; will behave erratically.


Image by: Stijin Swinnen