From a factory nearby, drift the calls
of slam and clatter in the birth of
sinks and cars, the screech of drilling
metal drifts, awakening corrugated
walls, like rain, and scattered iron
wire spirals among the lupins, in a
dance of discovery, reaching out with
the curious fingers of a child’s deep
sleep-waking. Here no stained-glass
conversationals are, but the radiance
of fire moulding iron, and rust-brown
tanks reaching up like fat trees to sky,
while the cries of men and machines yield
in a smooth discordance, locked in purpose.

(published in Wordhord; A Critical Selection of Contemporary Western Australian Poetry. Ed. Dennis Haskel & Hilary Fraser. Fremantle Arts Centre Press)