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The Corroboree
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Untitled poem for a new decade

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An icy ghost hand around my heart curl’d
a pit of gravity in my stomach
that cold sadness I have no true name for


My quantified desires lubricate 
the slick silicon nictating membrane 
of the eye that watches me and knows all 


(but understands naught of my inner life)


When the whole world’s your grave someone’s always
walking over it (chasing Pokémon) 
Will they sing the new day in for us now?

Still, on a few days and even more nights
I can feel the old blood humming in me
Memories or fantasies? Matters not.


Either way, it shines in me ‘til I’m blind:
Bear-sarked skin-changer raging against death
Predator of night. Sword of the morning!


And I recall my actual youth when
I took the Orca as my totem and
the sea-wolf kept me safe from teeth and deep


(Remember; the ghost-dance is rebellion)


Against good sense, and even existence
I rebel. And in rebelling, I see:
I am my pain, my joy. I AM my fear


I see the icy hand is mine! And I
reach into my chest and tear out
my traitorous weak and cowardly heart


And I dash it on the ground, stamping hard
Life goes on, for a while, until next time
Life: a moment. An instant: infinite

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Deep and powerful stuff, Yeti. Really enjoyed this. Thank you for sharing.

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