“Barking Up the Wrong Tree”
ghost gums
shed their bark
the min-min
makes good use of it
papyrus, soft enough to
imprint and write
thoughts, like the
ripening welts of
green ants
small bites sting
subcutaneous and
meridional,
terra australis sings
for the kneeling
tree huggers, feel
the rough exterior
peel like sun-blistered
thin skin weeps
bit by bit silently
baptised like a witch,
now far...
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