Elly McDonald


Bad Tidings (1984)

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dead birds on the shore

she sees them, and sees herself

battered, blown off course

in the guts of such storms as

bully this coast

she’s buffeted: she feels her wings snap

by day her surrounds eddy grey and by night

churn black: the sea, the sky, neither down

nor up nor around no sense

no salvation – small corpses, oil-slick sodden

dumped, junked by the tide

dark damp broken omens against

panic and exhaustion (so tired)

Author: Elly McDonald

Worked in the Australian rock music industry as a journalist and published widely as a poet before moving to London and spending the better part of a decade in advertising agencies. Returned to Australia and tried teaching, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees but also briefly as a high school classroom teacher. Has travelled Western Europe, North Africa, Russia, Northern India, East Asia, coastal USA, some Pacific Islands, and Australia.

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