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‘Immigrants’: a poem from Kate Fagan’s Song in the Grass
to Bob Fagan
If my Grandad had seen the future
he would have said, small acts of care
are worth leaving. He’d have painted
imitation grain on window casing
and planted Crystal Palace lobelia.
My bride stunned us in faux fur,
he’d have said—I didn’t expect her
to outlive me by sixteen years.
He’d float like spume on Jervis Bay
and under casuarinas at Sanctuary
Point and say, now I know paradise.
He’d make tea for Mum and Dad
before breakfast, Tang at lunch
and shepherd’s pie on a Monday.
He’d enlist to fight fascism and stand
straight backed. He’d cross the Suez
on the Castel Felice, watch comedy,
say he wanted a daughter like me.
He’d bounce on his heels and organise
mints at the phone table. He’d hear
pneumonia coming and live until
Cathy Freeman won gold. He’d walk
on the shores of Lake Burley Griffin
and say, not everyone will love
this town. He’d shoe horses
at Sezincote, flood an orange orchard,
lug for the MSO, cry in a dorm
at Fisherman’s Bend. He’d be stoically
sentimental, gravely proud of his son.
He’d kiss my children and clutch
their shoulders, too modest to say
my brother’s boy resembled him.
He’d tinker in sheds, hum over
weekend newspapers, buy bacon
at Vincentia butcher so Nanna
could fry us holiday sandwiches.
If my Grandad had seen the future
he would have said, at Monte Cassino
some things were lost forever. He might
take back that year but no others.
‘Immigrants’, a poem by Kate Fagan from Song in the Grass (2024).