Australian Sporting Culture

You’re afraid of lapping lazy losers until you cook?
This thermometer has not even erupted yet sook.
It’s your destiny to swim in pain, you won’t drown,
it’s not a major fracture, how dare you slow down.
Ignore the blood blisters ballooning in your socks;
the only thing that matters is humbling the clocks.
If you can’t laugh at the river of sweat in your eyes
why look at your empty trophy cabinet in surprise?
To be a true champion you must forever refrain
from confusing discomfort with excruciating pain.
Under the tutelage of coach Penelope Slaughter,
you’ll learn to last, like a pearl diver under water.

Featured

Lone Swimmer

Waterlogged driftwood sinks beneath the swell.
The swimmer seeks shelter
on the summit
of a glorified boulder.
He explores guano fed gardens
in search of fresh water ponds.
All but one is a glorified puddle.

Giant crabs lurk in the caves below.
Their pincers have the power
to launch frying pans into the ocean.
They challenge seals to bloody brawls.

There’s enough skeletons
to keep the fire burning until spring.
The swimmer boils algae
in the remnants of the storm.
Will the moonlit beaches he dreams of
be stolen by the waves?

The swimming season is nigh.
How far beyond the horizon
to the next islet?
Sailors wave and smile politely
as they tack westward
in search of distressed canoeists.

Thirty nautical years to the continent,
reads a rust ravaged sign
peeking above the high water mark.