Logos smeared in shimmering rouge

 On a night-hushed harbour

 The soggy blink and burst

 Of fluorescent overtime

 

Cupping the tinkle-donk

 Of tilting masts

 Wildly pointing at the stars

 In giddy accusation -

 

Skinned pets, parked 

 Waiting for Sydney’s

 Working wealth to wake

 

 

Perched on cement

 Soothed by the quiet

 Moored like these yachts

 In obedient patience,

 I consider our trembling marriage

 

 

The bridge yawns gracefully above

 House lights huddle

 On a borrowed headland,

 Camped conversations

 Silenced by distance

 And the inky black spill

 Of still ocean

 

The water is a kiss or a slap

 Against the city’s concrete rim -

 I can’t decide.

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Like the urban setting very much

the non-domesticana still evokes a carpe noctum.

thanks Skye. 

fantastic work - loved it!!

Thank you for your comment, belatedly! 

Hi Skye,

Congratulations on winning The Sydney Poetry Prize!!!

In the words of The Smiths "I knew her first and I knew her well" lmao

From the poet, with two eye patches on, drinking vin vulgaire,

AutoPirate :))

Bridge yawns, borrowed headland...it's really great, monstrous!! Writing brimming with process: life.

Apologies for being a pig, but on revisitation it is worthy of Prize! 

I really love this poem, too. It's very beautiful, very moving. 

Congratulations Skye.  It's a great poem.  I particularly liked 'the tinkle-donk of tilting masts'.  It's such a distinctive sound and I never would have thought of putting it into language that way.  

Skye this is just beautiful, I can't stop reading it.

Thanks, Tom! 
Rushcutters Bay yes that's the place...
Awesome poem I can really relate to it..
Being of Kings Cross Desent...
Howdy! Ta for comment- yes, that little piece of paradise just down from the Coke sign
Thanks 

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