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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 8, Number 3, September 2014

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Cynthia Rowe
Sydney, New South Wales, Australia


one flew east, one flew west . . .

The bulldozer hoists Mame’s clapboard cottage higher and higher. The walls buckle, the floors and roof beams splinter to settle among the climbing roses, the apple trees and quinces. The studios—housing art, and music—have already been flattened. A paint-hardened brush lies across a wild cherry, caught between two twigs. Sheet music and love letters are ground into the dirt.

twilight breeze
the bowler’s
eau de toilette

Mame’s hopes and dreams are to be replaced by a sports field for the local school. An independent woman, eccentric and artistic, she never had children of her own, spurning the man who sought her hand in marriage all those years ago. Soon there will be the thwack of boot on leather, the knock of leather on willow, the squeals and shouts of those with their lives tantalisingly ahead.

lavender-lined path
a mad dash past
feasting bees

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