we are a relic species
our house in an ancient forest growing along fault lines
as continental plates groaned,
drifting, beneath where the lighthouse now stands
whales, dinosaurs, a cove filled with Mesozoic bones.
All five cousins and their two dogs play in mud and rain
gumboots stuck, clothes filthy in the remnant cold rainforest
light casts far down through tall mountain eucalypt trees
our children are small anchors
entrusted to hold fast
cliffs, stone and our own precarious lives
sailing boats sheer to the left and sheer to the right
I am held by a boy holding my hand
and telling me that when he dies
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