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On the way there, I barely notice cars
stuck in side streets or bikes swanning past,
their riders calling out: Don’t drive to the festival!
Green, white and red flags are wind-tossed sentences
sailing above the roofs on Great North Road,
free from punctuation. A winter-blue sky frames
the small stage, where one boy and many girls
dance Alice & Co in a hip-hop Wonderland.
Queen of Hearts struts, steers Red Knights –
pepper-red and salt-white. While we applaud
a man turns to me with proudest eyes: The boy’s mine.
Later, at the big stage, a band plays ‘Azzurro’.
The afternoon elongates desires, as in the song.
Too – or so – blue and long, depending on the translation.

 

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About the author:

Fleur Beaupert

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Fleur Beaupert is a Sydney based poet. Find her on the web at fleurbeaupert.com.

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On the way there, I barely notice cars
stuck in side streets or bikes swanning past,
their riders calling out: Don’t drive to the festival! ...