An Old Factory in Footscray

It has stood abandoned for years, the toxic soil too costly for developers to clean up. It's vast, dark, gutted interior echoes an absence. And yet a tuft of grass has pushed up through the oil soaked concrete floor beneath a shaft of sunlight falling from a hole in the ceiling. It grows on this narrow stage, a thin beam of light enough to sustain it and drip a little moisture down for it to sip. It clings onto life as a poem does, pushing through a crack in the soul, seeking out enough light for it to live for awhile in a hostile world.