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Some More Poems

Melinda Gaughwin

Concrete Names

I walk the streets of
Redfern and see your name
etched in concrete.

You marked your
place-time in wet grey
so dense-soft until
it hardened.

There your name
and the memory of its etching
will remain until noise,
a jackhammer beat

Erases you.

Storm over Redfern

Storms roll over this
place like they’re
meant to be here.

Without rain, their cracks
and flashes crack and flash
but do not stop people in

their tracks or send them
ant-like scurrying into
houses that have housed

not few but many.

Giant paperbarks reach-lean
into these closely packed
abodes, standing strong

against the roll rumble of energy;
when the sky spits
the neighbourhood hums.


isn’t it funny how
we inhabit houses
rattling our living
through them

their every nook
and cranny bearing
witness to who we are
at particular points

in time

in time

we move on and
the house remains
inhabited again,
bearing witness.