Mary Mageau: SOLACE

I’m bent over a mass of red, orange and gold crotons, pruning away dead leaves among the long shadows. There are no flashes of exotic flowers here as the colour is showcased by mass plantings of foliage. The variegated leaves of tall cannas and cordylines are offset by beds of soft white flannel flowers. Silver wattle occasionally breaks the spread of striped cream and green leaves. Boronia’s deep rose competes with purple and lavender coleus. My aching back suggests that it’s time for a break.

beyond my door
a perfect garden
loneliness
a deep impacted root
I twist and pull

by Mary Mageau
Samford, Qld., Australia

Mary Mageau: A PARTING GIFT

.

A note was passed to me in French class. I opened it and read, ‘Patrick McKinnon really likes you, Mary Jane.’ After school I saw Patrick loitering near the oak tree on my corner. As I passed he called out, ‘Hey, Mary Jane, I’ve got somethin for you.’ Then without warning he put his arms around me and pressed his clenched lips hard against my mouth. I was able to struggle away from him and run toward the safety of home.

Soon afterward the McKinnon family moved away from our town. Patrick was long forgotten until years later when I unexpectedly came upon his name.

first kiss
now plastic flowers
decorate your grave

by Mary Mageau

Samford, Qld., Australia

first published in Paper Wasp, Winter 2008

Mary Mageau: GLARE

.

I wash my hands, struggle into a shapeless cotton gown opened at the back then cover my hair with a floppy cloth shower cap. So many drops have left my left eye blurred and burning slightly. A needle in my arm follows and a deep sense of relaxation engulfs me. ‘You’ll be fine now,’ a nurse speaks comfortingly. I barely remember two young men guiding me onto a bed then wheeling me away through double doors into the glare of a large room, where I drift into a dreamless sleep . . .
.

cataract operation —
the pale blossoms
bright yellow

.
by Mary Mageau
Samford, Qld., Australia

Mary Mageau: THE SENTINEL

.

I climb round and round close to the outside wall, to avoid the railing where the stair treads narrow about their central post. A semi-circular platform rests high above. Its glass windows provide a sweeping view. Counting the last few steps I finally reach the top of the Moreton Bay Lighthouse, where I gaze in awe at the ocean below.

the rising sun –
an endless pathway
of molten gold

.
Outside the lighthouse lamp is rotating. I disengage it as there is no need for its warning light. Now the bold red and white stripes of the lighthouse itself will become the beacon. I study the turbulence of the deep waters churning the rocky shore below. The subtle changes in the wind, waves and tides are entered in my log book – these brief markers of the ever transforming seascape that surrounds me.
.

ebb tide –
a foot print shelters
one tiny crab

.
by Mary Mageau
Samford, Qld., Australia

Mary Mageau: OUTBACK

.

The Great Dividing Range rises straight ahead from the valley floor. That abrupt counterpoint of rugged mountain tops leads us through Cunningham’s Gap into the dry lands. Green surrenders now to brown – subtle shades of tan, caramel, rich sienna and deep red ochre.

‘Come along,’ you said. ‘This place is a photographer’s heaven.’ Trees disappear from sight, shrubs wilt and droop. Soon only large tracts of barren earth are visible, crosshatched by deep cracks. The featureless landscape is carved into two parts by the road we travel on – a continuous ribbon carrying us straight ahead toward the centre of this vast, timeless land.
.

dry seeds
the blueprint for new life
wind scattered

.
by Mary Mageau
Samford, Qld., Australia