Peter Skrzynecki Poems

My gentle father
Kept pace only with the Joneses
Of his own mind's making -
Loved his garden like an only child,
...

"Life as nowhere else and a people apart."
- Dostoevsky, The House of the Dead


Transferred from Haematology
...

1949


1
Tired, embittered,
wary of each other—
like men whose death sentences
have been commuted,
...

He rode the red dust roads as a kid
in a billycart built from a fruitbox
along with other kids like himself
who lived on hope and laughter—
...

My thoughts walked ahead of me
and nothing was spoken
the whole time — almost
as if the elements had requested
...

Who are these shadows
that hang over you in a dream—
the bearded, faceless men
standing shoulder to shoulder?
...

Parkes, 1949-51


No one kept count
of all the comings and goings—
...

It was the mountain
I was always going to climb —
Swore that heat would not tire me,
Flowers and snakes could not
...

Impossible not to see them
once you cross the railway bridge
and enter Memorial Avenue—
the rows of red trees
along the cemetery's perimeter:
...

My father's "Arbeitskarte"
or Work Card
is the only surviving document
that I have
...