Wednesday, September 17, 2008

I dream of horses,
drawn in paddocks.
Stallions, colts, a silver bay.
I call out, ‘get on, get on!’

Halfway to town, a ranger
in chaps, riding-pants,
high-calibre rifle, shoots one.
They’ve trampled the melons.

At the rodeo, Sunday, in the fracas
of bull riding & bucking broncos
the ranger dies
in a horse float
jam-packed with melons
to get his fill.

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Evangelyne

Evangelyne
Published by Australian Poetry Centre, Melbourne

of Arc & Shadow

of Arc & Shadow
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