Les Wicks


Petrol Head

Internal                	from tree hollows ideas like a gawk of juvenile galahs
Combustion      	as ants mass from fissures in the red-soil adamancies
Engines               	don’t need to make sense
                            			to be tuned
to anything more complex than this day after rain. Easter… I want music
amongst my trees I (for)get his motor
next door
revving in its skyburrs.
There’s the possibility of violence
it’s hard work, 
to shed the feathers of this suburb.




Les Wicks has been published across 30 countries in 15 languages. His 14th book of poetry 
is Belief (Flying Islands, 2019). He can be found at leswicks.tripod.com/lw.htm 
 
 

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