Dorothy Dorothy Dorothy

i.m. Dorothy Hewett

last rays of day long
I read x-rays of your heart
against the light I see
your children run across
its pumping muscle

currawongs call shadows to light

Merv mumbles behind the wheel
your hearse passes lorries on the hill
but you’re the navigator still

As you stop at each pitstop
you fall in love with the waiter
who sings & tells you dark-eyed lies

Merv’s tinkering with the motor
adding a little oil
more air to a back tyre

This hearse is a raised finger to Death

‘We see what you’ve been doing
taking more than your fair share
we’re on to you ...

You come knocking like smiling JWs -
Tell those who believe
your poppycock. Try next door -

they’re an unhappy bunch.’
A sardonic laugh follows Death
out the door ...

As he passes he
polishes the wing of
the hearse in the drive.