she put it on the
verge
mouth set in one
straight line
this was the last of
him
fold up bed where he
slept
after whatever it
was had
blown out
blown up
blown away
the hump backed tele
like them — no
longer worked
love nest mattress
just looked stained
his clothes
his boots
his shaving cream
book of Australian love
poems
back broken
beer fridge with
footy stickers
half finished novel
palm fronds she
waved
before she saw
he wasn’t going to
save her
she wasn’t going to
save him
hard rubbish
