Bronwen Manger*
He’ll step out from wreckage
in tap shoes, turn the valley’ to Vegas
and call me President. He’ll be
cats for the spilt milk, night sky
for the broken glass,
a hand to halt the finger
on the button. He’ll bind death
to a banana lounge
with streamers; sandcastles
will spring from his footprints.
He’ll throw open the curtains –
plagues will cower; graves
will cease licking their lips.
He’ll be electric guitars for the eulogies,
laughter for the queues, and questions
for all these years of answers
that need tearing down.
*Bronwen Manger is a poet and spoken word artist from Melbourne, and a regular at local poetry readings. Her work has appeared in a number of publications including Best Australian Poems 2012, The Age, Going Down Swinging, page seventeen and Offset. In 2011, twenty of Bronwen’s poems were published in Triptych Poets 2 (Blemish Books). Bronwen has also performed her poetry on TV (Channel 31’s Red Lobster program) and radio (Triple J, 3CR and Phoenix FM).
