Poetry

Russell Erwin: Yeoval 16-K

Yeoval 16-K (for Brab)   Three shorts and one long, or was that 16-D? What was yours? They all could tell who was ringing simply by the way the handle had been rung, wrung. “That’s the Vaughan’s, he must be in for the evening.”   That fibro and masonite kitchen, single man’s quarters, horse gear on the verandah, marking pliers on the kitchen table, The Pastoral Review stacked in a corner. A skin away, the frost and the stars; each season with its own perfume: musk-damp thick as a rug in the hollow below the house, frogs gargling, viscous-bubbling, like…

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