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Croc Dreaming

All night freight trains roar in,
whirl about my galleon, sails billowing,
spiky shadows of palm fronds casting
all about like Bunyip’s claws

I lie in my canvas listening
to treetop winds
So much energy
searching for a destination

Like the blonde at Cooktown with the scarred
arms and dog with frightened eyes
in the beaten-up Hi Lux with the broken axle,
limping south

She’s crossed the Jardine
jumping reptiles,
destination unknown

Brown mole shaped
like a reef islet
on the right side
of her dry mouth

View this poem on The Disappearing »

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