Elly McDonald


Meat (Lennie’s Song) (1981)

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are made to invade and to hit

grim-faced and intense, they force me to feel

nothing but them: they bruise me

then leave me

pleading for pain, and all abused flesh

like meat on a spit

Some lamb


so when I’m empty

I want to be beaten

down, again, or to slash my face

which men have seen but

Men die

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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