Saturday, December 30, 2017

New Year's Eve


The big grey
is propped on its tail
regarding me.

I’ve stopped.
A gully between us
of cracked rocks

allows us space
to consider danger,
maybe flight.

We keep looking
though, and I see wounds
gouged deep, ripped

by teeth, clawed
through fur. A dog’s mark
to carry.

I hold up
my hand and show the hole
the knife made.

The roo turns
and bounds away lightly.
I turn too.

The gully waits
for me as I look clear
at broken light.



31 December 2017

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