From Constantine to Con
kindergarten scissors cut his name
condense his pride
a hulking lad
vulnerable despite his size
survival is held within a shrug
enforced by a clenched fist
unbeknown afraid of his victims
more than they are of him
we share a school desk
I share my lunch treats
(jam sandwiches and Sao biscuits)
with someone else
school yard leers with brutal jibes
at a time when everyone
is Alice in Wonderland
or Roy Rogers
any person outside the mould
comes from an alien ship
just landed
on pre-claimed turf
I have a scar on my wrist –
a small crescent
from a thumbnail
dipped in immigrant DNA
a warning
in case I contemplate snitching
on erasers chewed
or pencils gone missing
the mark will always brand me
a reminder of nose-bleeds
mixed with jacaranda trumpets
on bicycle tracks edging parklands
I often see Con/ a big Greek man
he smiles recognition
(a mouth smile that stops midbrain)
turns away before I can say
hello
Balance
even the way he peels an orange
is different
a pantomime played out
in elaborate sequences
how is it we blend
my tongue cast in Irish bracken
his in pasta sauce
I understand his need for chestnuts
he complains about my stew
other parts fit into a pattern
lightning strikes
the air balloons
with things we forget to say
we are a tallow flame
each flicker melts the imbalance
until finally we dissolve
into the same pool
where love is thicker than blood
