Demolition of the Battery Point boat sheds – Saxby Pridmore

Thirsty boards that hadn’t seen a lick

of paint since the coronation

off-square doors, lost-key padlocks

thistles growing through the floor, toward sun-stars

in flapping tin roofs. Rusting

chain, ends of heavy, greasy rope

paint brush bristles stuck together

stiff as handles


all pushed into piles of cobwebbed planks

warped ply, dented drums

barnacled posts, barbed wire, beer bottles

with silverfished labels, franger packets

bent nails and one brass screw.


Their demolition was front page news


they were deserted long ago, for the marina

by those who loved them.

The shrugging waves

care even less and know the world’s not flat.


Originally published in Gathering Force, 1997