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Sport 43: 2015

In our Tent

page 44

In our Tent

This is somewhere on the east coast of Australia.
This is somewhere,
This switching out the light,
The darkening sounds of raindrops
Of animals
Licking barbecues.
The dusk the black wind the square light of home.
The way we say the word submarine.
The way it hates
From deep inside its head.
The long dark spill of an ocean.
The way we are raised to hunt in the dark.
Rain opens the dark like spiders open triangles.
We are ever falling
Through our own search cordon.
We are the international community we have sent to find us.
Through the jellyfish, the souls of tortoises.
We are the black box studying
The laughter of our final mayday broadcast.
I walk out under the stars in clean white.
We are seventy per cent water and thirty per cent ice.
None of us will ever be together.