HORSE RIDER
the barren hill moved beneath me/
a horse drawing in a breath of
trangie/ an inhalation as wide as
new south wales/ i leant forward
uneasily/ whispering to its long
brown neck/ my weight breaking
its posture into a low lying gully/
its black ears flicking back like
flies/ these property horses are
drag-around vehicles/ wearing
away like erosion beneath riders/
are slumping land broken down
after drought/ along the couldn't-
be-bothered fence lines/ at midday
i was thrown off/ into the blue
world of birds/ before striking
the rocky ground/ sheep departed
like a crowd & stood beside some
hills/ fleece dissolving on boulders
like mist/ i hit the stopping point
of rock/ remote grey outcrops
locking me out/ & one black crow
to laugh off lambs in the spring/
with their baby soft eyes turned
up to the sun/ as the country
below tore into my skin
* Trangie is a small country town in western New South Wales. | 
