He catches rabbits
in the paddock
with spotlights.
He catches frightened
sand coloured luckless
bundles, quivers of musk.
He catches them alive
with his hands. I thrive
on this, complex and complete,
like Australian heat.
He makes our den
with the foxes. We rest
with eyes alert
like spinifex, like silent red dirt.
Editor: Andrew M. Bell
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