Carnage At Dark Towers
The Melbourne Protocol states that tennis and other famous
sports stars are welcome guests of wherever they happen
to be at any given moment
Nadal stares into the eyes of the sun, but not directly, Mum
The Melbourne Protocol states that tennis and other famous
sports stars are welcome guests of wherever they happen
to be at any given moment
My apartment block, Dark Towers, is near Rod Laver Arena
so I hear a lot of great matches free
No one knows what it’s like to come home to find a badly
mauled Djokovic on the front door mat. It’s not a welcome
feeling
Nadal stares into the eyes of the sun, but not directly, Mum
The cat Roland is more suited to international time zones
During Wimbledon I give him a Kyrgios doll. He shows no
interest until I chew its leg and drop it in his basket. Then he
lets it share his food dish
My apartment block, Dark Towers, is near Rod Laver Arena
so I hear a lot of great matches free
It doesn’t stop the carnage, however. Perhaps the doll assists
in the dragging?
No one knows what it’s like to come home to find a badly
mauled Djokovic on the front door mat. It’s not a welcome
feeling
No one knows what it’s like to find a headless Federer (rec-
ognisable only by his arm’s insignia) propped up in their
back porch, unless they’ve experienced it themselves, which
I doubt
They mostly revive, however. I find myself wanting to come
home earlier each night in case I can be of help. I know Rol-
and is just trying to find me a boyfriend. He’s never dragged
Serena Williams or Sharapova down the street, and left them
half hidden under a fallen hatstand in the bedroom. Once
though, I thought he had string marks on his nose, so he may
not always get his prey
The cat Roland is more suited to international time zones
During Wimbledon I give him a Kyrgios doll. He shows no
interest until I chew its leg and drop it in his basket. Then he
lets it share his food dish
It doesn’t stop the carnage, however. Perhaps the doll assists
in the dragging?
No one knows what it’s like to find a headless Federer (rec-
ognisable only by his arm’s insignia) propped up in their
back porch, unless they’ve experienced it themselves, which
I doubt
They mostly revive, however. I find myself wanting to come
home earlier each night in case I can be of help. I know Rol-
and is just trying to find me a boyfriend. He’s never dragged
Serena Williams or Sharapova down the street, and left them
half hidden under a fallen hatstand in the bedroom. Once
though, I thought he had string marks on his nose, so he may
not always get his prey
I try both under- and overfeeding. Neither works. Roland
drop Sir Murray now! He isn’t even my type
Michael Farrell is from Bombala, NSW and lives in Melbourne. His recent books are Cocky’s Joy (Giramondo) and A Lyrebird: Selected Poems (Blazevox). Last year he convened a panel, “Queer Sentiments” at the University of New South Wales, featuring Brian Reed, Kate Lilley and Astrid Lorange. He coedited Out of the Box: Contemporary Australian Gay and Lesbian Poets (Puncher and Wattmann) with Jill Jones.
