MOREE CAMP
we all sat together/ around the huge open fire/
flame light jumping up the nearest trunk/ tree
ash floating to skytop & the dry whistle of green
somewhere in the dead logs/ i was uncomfortably
warm near the fire/ my face glowing/ giving off
its own night heat/
but away from the light/ the
acute dark of mrs morse/ murdered nearby & hung
in a tree/ now when night falls in collarenebri
mrs morse hangs in dark trees/ & i rush into the
bush with dunny paper & torch/ some of the men
jeering at me/
after dark strolls away from the
fire are always the worst/ yesterday most of
the toilet paper blew back into camp/ some of
the pieces twenty feet long/ they had shit on
them/ & they hung in trees like streamers &
scared the magpies away/
& dad said to the men who
were camped with us: yar too lazy ter wipe yar own
fuckin' arse/ mummy's boys/ first time in the bush/
want yar mum ter put a bibby on yar/ & take the
tops orf yar eggs/ the paper was buried from that
day on/
& later on by the fire/ a bit more pissed/
dad told us: when i was thirteen i went out with
me old man & cut three hundred gidgee posts 'til
the blood ran outa me hands/ & when i showed 'im
'e said: piss on 'em or rub some kero into 'em/
you'll be right/
i noticed the yolk thick greasiness
of the mens' faces/ as each tore macholy into
topknot pigeon breasts/ grey feathers sticking to
the oil on their chins/ & dad's tiny green eyes
focused beyond the flicker of flames/ his chewing
jaw spiked with bristle & down/
& him saying:
brendon's a good cook/ cooks all that vegetarian
food/ but dad those birds have been left out in the
sun for two days & what's that white stuff on your
face/ & dad never stopped chewing as he replied
with a mouthful: that's rice/ that's fuckin' rice/
but dad i said: rice hasn't got legs | 
