Finding a Use For Barnaby Joyce
Barnaby sat glowering like a salt lamp
in the parliament this afternoon.
Success with schooners at lunch
and an unscripted moment
in which he said “Grayndler” five times
in one sentence were matters of pride
as he slumped in his chair, watching
Turnbull defend him, once again,
from the verbal elbows of Albo.
He met the girlfriend, Ms Campion, the following day
at Brewarrina, where the river
ran dry. He thought that even the Abbott
would be proud of how he took control of things
to make sure his mates on the cotton farms
had water, whatever it costs the folk downstream.
They sat quietly, uncomfortably, by the burnt out
stump of a gum tree that once
may have had a chance to be mighty.
He suggested a poem for the people
of Grayndler, being better at poems than politics,
but couldn’t decide what to say
except that marriage is a once
in a lifetime affair that the gays
have no part of. One day he’ll face
Jesus on that, I wonder what
he’ll think, I wonder if he’ll
find a use for Barnaby Joyce.
