a poem by Leif Phillips, Australia - poetry writer, author, poet

I was lying on the lawn
looking at the tinny
wondering if it was full
empty, somewhere in between
mornings first light
glistening on the ring pull
did I dare hope
could I pray to a foreign pope
just a mouthful
maybe more, maybe a quarter can
a third got the bird
we were getting greedy
a throat still needy
parched if you like
I know I don’t
I raise my head a little
just enough to see
that moment when overhead tree
drops a piece of itself
into the well filled can
a matter of fact plunk
demanding to be drunk
by my stomach with a groan,
a tinny seed of love was sown.

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