April 2011
The bear pit is empty
Giant slabs of cracked concrete
Litter and weeds
The wallabies say,
Good day, mate.
Good to hear the mother tongue again
I ask the emu,
Sitting on his own, in the wallaby enclosure,
Feathers all shabby and grey,
Don’t you have any friends?
No mate, he says
Only these bloody wallabies
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