Huge thanks to judges Andrea Goldsmith and Kristen Henry, Poetry Editor Judith Beveridge, and Meanjin for awarding Angelo third prize in The Dorothy Porter Prize.
The idea behind the poem has been floating around my head for a long time, I’m glad it found appreciative readers. The first few stanzas are below, you’ll find the rest of the poem in the current edition of Meanjin.
– Rico Craig –
We were the kids who hung shoes from power lines,
left them doubled in their swaying doom
to mark each steal. One of us worked the ignition
the other tossed twisting shoes at the deadpan sky
until they garrotted a line. As they swung
we eased into traffic, just another ducoed dream.
On the day he died we drove stolen cars
through the suburbs, spray cans knocking like eggs
in a swaying nest. I melted the dash and flicked
matches through the window. From Parra Rd
to Blacktown, our sweat mixed,
all desperate, with the stink of scorched plastic;
and we sprayed mourning consonants on every
archway we found. Cops Killed Tsakos