Underneath this great embarrassing rock

            We cower

            Victims of Colonial naming subservience

            Clinging to the river shore

            Not unlike a caravan park


            Ghosts of Wapping interred

            Crushed neath edifices

            Corporately pleasing,

            Wallowing in the slush of conformity

            Choked with civic obedience


            Down at the docks

            The mailman tide returns

            Winnowing in the mail

            The fragments from Conrads ship

            Long gone from Otago Bay

            At East Risdon

            The middens the holy middens

            What wonder what surprise

            For those early Tasmanians

To awaken and see that spaceship

The Zinc Works appear in the mist

  On the Western shore.

Neville Rodman