June/July 2010




walleah press


Mazerati parrot

This year my mountain slid to the ground
and fish flew in the air.
And I swam for my life through a city of fear.
No escaping this damned, this Gotterdammerung,
my life an opera score for crazed musicians.
My teahouse in the mountain’s still there,
but the birds have nowhere to sleep.
And the white heat this summer
makes glass, salt and feathers
objects of despair.


See this cut-glass vase, so perfect for roses,
belonged to the violin-player at No. 17.
She went crazy from an early age,
though she sired three sons.
Made of wire tendrils. Of sharp green.
Her daisy-wheel garden of pastels
was her delight, and captive birds,
jackdaws, parrots, sang for her
while she silently read,
a garland of dead roses on her chair.

Anne Kellas has lived in Southern Africa, the UK and Australia, and has published in magazines, journals, anthologies and online publications since 1968. Her third collection, working title "Silent Mountain" (with an Australia Council grant) nears completion. Poems from Mt Moono, ’89, deals with migration from apartheid South Africa. Isolated States came out shortly after 9/11.