GloMag GloMagMarch2019 - Page 81

'Mate you're not eating, though your backpack's full. If a bloke’s too thin, people bury him You're stuck to that stump, all pale and bleak, You stare for hours, then for hours you sob You’re out in the wet like a swollen creek And you never cackle like us kookaburra mob’ I slopped to my tent where I poured cold sweat. I dreamt of a raptor that plunders a nest And woke up crying for the girl I’d left. My head was lightning and thunder my chest A powerful owl in her old growth tree Shrieked in the night: 'My mate's a mate And he cares for our young, and he cares for me Where is your woman? Or are you too late'? 81