Coral Hull: Poetry: In The Dog Box Of Summer: Brewarrina Tip

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

CORAL HULL: IN THE DOG BOX OF SUMMER
BREWARRINA TIP

dad likes going to brewarrina tip/ just on dark/
taking his two hysterical cattle dogs with him/

radford is one of them/ as red as the thick dust
coating on the ford dashboard/
                                              the dogs like the
tip/ they find things to eat/ dad likes it/ he finds
things/
          yarnevano/ wotyarfind/ downther/ people/
throwinout/ goodgere/
                                  when he arrives back from the
tip/ it's about 11 p.m./ all the drunks of the
house/ have hit the grey salvation army blankets/

& are twisting about in dirty sheets/ with sweaty
foreheads/ & disjointed mumblings of dreams/ that
cannot surface/
                      & the questioning call/ of a mopoke
owl/ from the black box tree/ outside the kitchen
window/
             or a wotafuck/ yaronabout/
                                                      or the crackle &
split/ of carpet crunched bones/ from local camp
dogs/ apart from this/ & the frantic shuffling/ of
newspaper mice/
                         & some deep bush snoring/ from a
backroom leading onto a verandah/ the house is
quiet/ & washed in streetlight/ from a single
streetlamp/
                 the house is how dad likes it/
                                                             dad comes
home from brewarrina tip/ & into my bedroom/ now
mumbling to himself/ half full on rum/
                                                       first he
switches on the bedroom light/ as i struggle to wake
up/ i am struck with its brightness/
                                                   he flashes a
child's yellow raincoat in front of me/
                                                        yarmitelike
this/ itsnotblak/ butyarmitelikit/ tarwhere/
                                                             inmelbon/
cuntofaplace melbon/ like newcarsel/
orwoolongong/
                       dad stands over the bed/ & empties his
tip findings/ onto the heads of myself & sleeping
partner/
            pieces of dried grass/ catheads & pebbles/
paper & socks/ & the mangoey taste of sour tip/
falling onto my face/
                               i say half awake/
fuckoffdadfuckoff/
                           dad says/ fuckyathen/ & stomps
out to the kitchen/ a small piece of paper in his
left hand/
               he talks to himself/
                                           & i founsumpoetry/
dunnowotitmeans/ it ses/ heypolli wiggle/ hey
polliwog/ wunnathesdays/ ilbe afrog/
                                                       dad contemplates
this at the kitchen table/ lights up a cigarette/
with a filter on it/
                          he has stopped drinking for the
night/ nowino/ wota wogis/ butwotsa polliwiggle?/
itsgotmefucked/
                       a few drunks/ from rooms adjoining/
groan painfully out/ from their dark grey blankets/

garyshutthar fuckup/ fuchup/ shuttharfuckup/
                                                                   but dad
continues to enjoy/ his brewarrina tip philosophy/ &
the occasional response/ from bed wetting drunks/

but i am awake/ & upon listening to dad/ i soon find
out/ that radford has been left behind/ on one of
the sheep properties/ adjacent the tip/
                                                         sheepkilla/
thatdogsheepkilla/ shit dad/ i rouse myself from my
bed/ shaking eddie awake/ & bringing him with me/

dad where have you left the dog?/ naarrr/
dumptharfuckindog/ donwannafuckindog/ esasheepkilla/
dad i'm getting really angry/
                                         & fearful for the dog/
which has been left where men shoot dogs for having
spots/ & for barking alot/
                                       we half carry my father/
to the ford/ & load him in the back with the spare
tyre/
       fucradford/ fuckindog/ fuckim/ esasheepkilla/
the straight road to the tip/ takes us twelve
minutes/
             we drive off the track/ & into the night of
an abandoned property/
                                     dad complaining that he can't
see properly/ & trying to count dead sheep/
                                                                  we find
radford sitting in the middle of a claypan/ in our
headlights/ by a section of broken fence &
watertank/
                 we find the dog waiting/ where dad had
left him/
             radford bounds in through the open window/
& licks dad's face/ & claws him up the chest/ through
his open ripped shirt/
                                dad falls back/ & hits his
head on the toolbox/
                                there is no moon/ no dead
sheep/ just the quick drive home/ an excited dog &
dad's snoring/
                     eddie is driving/ apart from that it
is very dark

    

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