Elly McDonald


Opaque (1984)

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his hands

watch his hands, then

his eyes – a wordless

question, a clue

in the distances: relativity

him to me

from here to … where?

a merging of neutrals, non-colours

of winter: soft duns, muted bone

sparrows on concrete, dirt-naked

trees against the sky

us against ourselves

shades of the dead: the dull, the defeated

all things blurred, a blinded sun

pale, white on grey

earth beneath leaves

brittle, fallen

crushed underfoot

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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