Neville Rodman
Underneath this great embarrassing rock
We cower
Victims of Colonial naming subservience
Clinging to the river shore
Not unlike a caravan park
Ghosts of Wapping interred
Crushed neath edifices
Corporately pleasing,
Wallowing in the slush of conformity
Choked with civic obedience
Down at the docks
The mailman tide returns
Winnowing in the mail
The fragments from Conrads ship
Long gone from Otago Bay
At East Risdon
The middens the holy middens
What wonder what surprise
For those early Tasmanians
To awaken and see that spaceship
The Zinc Works appear in the mist
On the Western shore.
