by Peter Mitchell
For sale: old dairy farm, Collins Creek Road, Kyogle.
Don & I inspect the ancient rooms & dairy.
In the sunroom, Doug & Barb sit on an old leather lounge.
Across from them, we sprawl on old club chairs.
In Collins Creek Road, an old dairy farm is for sale.
‘He’s useless, y’know.’ Don looks my way.
Across the room, we sprawl on old club chairs.
Barb & Doug glance at each other, at me.
Don shakes his head. ‘He can’t use a chain-saw’.
The storm words ache my head. Again!
Doug & Barb exchange looks, frown.
Ach, ach, ach! A crow warns, flies away.
The chain-saw’s teeth bite my shoulders.
Barb’s eyes fire-green; Doug raises his eye-brows.
Don smiles, his mouth a frozen grimace.
Outside, we walk. The dry grass cracks like broken egg-shells.
Living in Lismore on Widjabul/Wia-bul Country, Nation, Peter Mitchell (he/his), writes across all narrative forms. His writing appears in international & national print platforms. He's authored two poetry chapbooks, Conspiracy of Skin (Ginninderra Press, 2018) & The Scarlet Moment (Picaro Press, 2009). Conspiracy of Skin was Highly Commended in the 2019 Wesley Michel Wright Prize for Poetry.
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