WHITE PAPER BAG
The street ran sideways to the sea not getting there ever
at the end a milk bar if you walked far enough the bell ting
cool glass lino white milk-bottles at school you pushed
your thumb through shiny red foil and drank sweet warm
grazed bitumen knees mercurochrome ting white paper
bag of lollies but I never bought them I saved for Bibles in
India until I broke open my tin all the way to the milk bar
on my own before we left for Adelaide ting white paper
bag I stood on the curb afraid to cross with the cars white
silver swoosh cars silver red swoosh cars red silver black
I stood on the curb white paper bag and crying at the cars
so even now I take the long way back always feeling the
cars heavy waiting behind me and the cars in front silver
red black remembering that white paper bag
About this Rooku
This poem came from Cathy’s vivid childhood memory of the milk bar on Glen Eira Road, Caulfield. Cathy hopes that Moving Galleries will encourage people who wouldn’t normally read or write poetry to give it a try.
About Cathy Altmann
Cathy Altmann is a poet whose work has appeared on Melbourne's trains, in journals, anthologies, and her self-published collection, 'The Tree of Knowledge' (2006). She plays violin in Trio Fidelis and has completed a Masters in Creative Writing on poetry and cancer. She lives in Box Hill with her husband and two children.
