Recently, at a writing workshop, maps and tourist brochures were distributed to participants and we had 10 minutes to compose a poem based on whichever item we had been handed. I got a map of the Moreton Bay/Redcliffe area of Queensland. This, with a bit of subsequent tweaking, is the poem I wrote.
Redcliffe Poem
Redcliffe is not Red Heap
that is a Norman Lindsay novel
with a saucy cover
we stocked at mum’s bookshop
in Diments Way, Hurstville
Scarborough Street is not
Scarborough Road
in Lytham, St Anne’s
where we lived when I was a kid
nor is it Scarborough Fair
in case you're going there
Quay Circuit is not Circular Quay
which itself is not circular but
semi circular
to geometry-minded Europeans
but Warrung to Eora nation people
Moreton Bay is celebrated
(is that the right word?)
in a ballad of convict suffering
though now known for its bugs
which are not bugs
but prized seafood
Margate Beach is Margate Beach
but not the one in Kent with
donkey rides
and ‘Kiss Me Quick’ hats
However we map it, nothing is
immutable
everywhere evokes elsewhere.
