Who says butterflies have no feelings?
Of course they have!
Eyejoy for the colours of the garden
Pride in a flight-controller's skill
Earlust for Victas and birdsong
And sadness at the shortness of life.
Jack and the Beans talk
(a confused fairy tale)
Scene 1, first conversation: the scene is Jack's garden
Jack: Good morning, beans!
The beans: Hello, Jack, how are you?
And so on.
(Subsequent dialogue yet to be devised)
Don't Come Back, Sister Anna
(a politically incorrect poem)
Don't come back, Sister Anna.
Don't come back, whatever you do.
Not even to gaze from beneath your crisp white veil
At the rows of spotless little beds and cribs in the dorm,
Or to reminisce in the twinkling breakfast-room
With the sunshine at the curtains that you sat up all night to finish.
No, Anna, please don't come back.
When Herb the yardman brought them in that day
A storm threat blackened the desert sky.
Take them! said their mothers,
And he snatched them from the burning dunes,
Bundling them onto the back of the ute, with Blue.
Thin and grubby they were. Their legs ran with sores.
Yet Jedda at four had a shining face like the nuggeted shoes
On the chap from Pix magazine.
Cute Picanninny, his feature said.
Her conception had won her mother a fag and a bottle of plonk.
And then there was Frank, the helpless fruit of a white brickie's lust,
Not long born and barely alive;
Like Jedda rejected, unwanted by the tribe,
For he too was tainted with white man's blood.
Yet Frank went to high school and took up a trade
And Jedda now wears a crisp white veil....
You aged, Anna. You tired.
Worn out, at the last you faded.
Your casket melted into the Simpson
And the crowd of dark faces honouring you
Were lost in the shadows of late afternoon.
To them you were the kindest of mothers
And some even called you a saint.
But now you're a pariah, Anna!
All of you people were thieves!
So don't come back Sister Anna, whatever you do.
They've got it in for you.