Penguin Island

Nadia Rhook

we drive south to
cleanse our throats of diesel  
and arrive in a place
where
penguins are
tagged and stuffed 
with polyester
tides are measured and reliable
island loses his
‘is’ to become land
every day

as we watch
the island
rays push through our lids
heat up childhood
memories

on the
way back to the
car you tell me about
your nana, how she suffered from arthritis for years and had
sisters who lived in Perth so
one day she got on a boat to visit them

she (my mother’s nana) was sea
sick the whole way had a
terrible time of it but after that trip to Perth
she never got arthritis
again

did she purge her pain
overboard
or can a move from
east to west cure the body’s aches the way aerobic
steps are most therapeutic when performed in swimming pools, sideways, when the
pressure to move forward has eased

you tell me this story without a
ray of sentimentality I
gulp it down then
whisper too quietly for you to hear let the
sun keep finding its way through
my eyelids let the memories warm us
together forever

we drive back
north in the direction of the airport
sipping the air-conned air
unleaded medicine for vaporising aches