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July 2016, vol 12 no 2

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Marilyn Humbert

Slow Motion

starlit eve’
between sand bars
ripples glinting

Memories surface, crayon pictures in my nursery-hand. Tree foliage full and round, flower petals defined. A square house with a square door, triangle roof, two windows each divided into four.

Through the glass, plains stretch, baking under the inland summer sun. A wavering veil of mirage distorts the horizon. Thin-ribbed cattle mob the dam, jostling, slurping the shrinking muddy water. Dust funnels zig-zag between dry tussocks.

a crow caws
from the rusty fence post
lengthening shadows

Father is late coming home from working in the paddocks. Taking the lantern, I walk towards the barn. The door is ajar. A figure twists on the end of a rope.

pushed and pulled –
phases of the moon