After the argument of boulders, stone bent
shoulder to shoulder, the descent.
Grasses aflame with summer intending. Silent motor coasting
inches above the earth. This is the slope of earth's breast,
and its curve is everlasting. We are leaving your coast.
Come lie with me in this sliver-cradle. I am apron,
oilskin, shipfold, heartbreak. Through the windscreen
the sky bellies like a spoon alight. You so far above it.
Caleb Cluff
Majorca, Vic.
15/8/07
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