Mar/Apr 2017 • Vol. XXXIX No. 2 PoetryMarch 1, 2017 |

Fort Dada

Once off the ship from sector blah blahshe checks into a spa in Baden Baden, wet air spiced with a pile of old Who's Whosand warm custardy wafts of ylang ylang. Only the new filtration systems murmurand three perfect smiles of pawpaw. Bowls heaped with wild mushroom couscoussuit the one girl from Wagga Waggawho knows her rendang from her gado gado. Bright and rare as a golden bulbulshe caught on quick, so flicked the froufrou, went off-piste: first tai chi, then the cha cha.Love's dance, though: now that was lose-lose. They often wound up tangled in her yoyo. The holiday in Crete they fought like kri kri,or way back in the early days in Woy Woy when she went walkabout with the .22, blood blurring loud above the never never,visions surely no one else had had(her naked papa brandishing his atlatl). Day-to-day distress remains hush-hushand being seen wallowing is a booboo— so Fuck you all, she sighs, and pooh poohto the pricks skeptical of my juju … Hence the spa, hence the Liszt b

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Jaya Savige’s poetry collections include Maze Bright (Vagabond Rare Objects, 2014), Surface to Air (UQP, 2011), and Latecomers (UQP, 2005). He was born in Sydney, grew up on Bribie Island in Moreton Bay, Queensland, and teaches at the New College of the Humanities–London.

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