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

Australian-born, with English mother, has lived in several Australian cities and in London. Travelled widely. Way way back when, published widely as a poet and short story writer. For the first 20 years of my working life I worked as an entertainment journalist, publicist, PR consultant and in advertising and media agencies. In the second 20 years, I worked in marketing roles at non-profit organisations then retrained as a teacher, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees. Also did miserable McJobs, and a long, happy stint at an art gallery.

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