Tag Archives: Andrew Phillips poetry

one of those council parks

with boom gate entrance
secluded eucalyptus
tables and seats
sit empty in the shade
the carpark full

all the paths lead to themselves
rough pebbled short and bendy
past a struggling bottle brush

butcherbird and magpie
on the same branch of the ironbark
eyeing off the lawn for supple grubs

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it’s a cat conspiracy

 .

there’s one in the shop window

who makes eyes at my family

 .

they toss the idea of him into conversations

and I hiss like a hot wok dad’s-joke

to move on

 .

the manipulation of cute

how could you deprive them

 .

a conspiracy of retracted calls can we pleeeease

has stretched in the kitchen for two years now

maybe it’s time

 .

I move us all back to that country I love 

where cats are delicious

 .

.

.

Go on, send me angry mail. I’ll eat it all.

note: nothing was harmed in the making of this poem

an hour after patting down the earth


Trains on the floor of your room

it would have found you, brushed
itself against your leg, plopped
down in the middle of the track. 

‘Mi-Yeow alive Daddy?’

You button your lip
hold deep breaths in your belly
and stare at the memory
of a bag in the ground.

Twenty minutes
on my lap
you hold back

my explanations.  Look up
occasionally, ask my eyes for

a change in the situation.

Until Mummy walks in 
and your whirring little mind
lets your heart burst
all your sadness.