Coral Hull: Poetry: Broken Land: 5 Days In Bre: Photographic Pictorial: Day Two/ VII. The Bre Roo Works/ 4. The Dark Dead Blood Of the Kangaroo

I MACKENZIE KNIGHT I A CHILD OF WRATH A GOD OF LOVE I FALLEN ANGELS EXPOSED I

CORAL HULL: BROKEN LAND: 5 DAYS IN BRE
Day Two

I. THE BRE ROO WORKS

4. The Dark Dead Blood Of the Kangaroo

The boning factory, the mincer,
churning out mince.
So much mince you've never seen so much.
Like a river,
the way it squirms, moved on by fat,
through the hands.
I imagine every tree, every stone, every roo,
every living thing
in smaller & smaller concentric circles,
being forced in,
to the machinery.
The Roo Works at its centre,
boning it, grinding it, down.
Until it collapses in on itself,
then expands out
to cover the land with its nothingness,
until it meets its own shadow
on the edge of night,
in winds of hostility that blow
across the sand.
There is an emergency
in these places, plains of scream.
There is a warning
& the smell of blood
that fills the lungs for hours.
There is evil.
There are vacuums sucking in time & space.
Flesh slapping days, steel blue nights,
onto the trays.
End of the shift, end of the line, end of the land.
The stink of flesh stayed with me for days.
My stomach trying to throw up
the purple odour.
I think of the trails of blood
from the roadside, that
lead deep into the continent.

    

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