This poem is taken from Stand 244, 22(4) December 2024 - February 2025.
Coolabah, Grasswrens, the Gulf of Carpentaria
The lorikeet’s din flits and bobs among the lipstick palms.
Maybe it was brief, the cold dew upon the wattle-and-daub house.
Sick with sun, her question: distant, banged all day.
He wanted to say he loved her.
The wattle-and-daub home sheltered briefly the cold.
...
Maybe it was brief, the cold dew upon the wattle-and-daub house.
Sick with sun, her question: distant, banged all day.
He wanted to say he loved her.
The wattle-and-daub home sheltered briefly the cold.
...
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