Elly McDonald

Writer

REM (1983)

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swimming or flying; it’s exhausting

a lurching struggle to keep on top

to maintain buoyancy, a semblance of direction

How I spend my nights, aloft, in

flapping, plunging, plummeting…

speeding into spirals,

open-mouthed crazed arcs

colliding with telephone poles, tangled

in the wires or

strangled by seaweed, out-distancing

a shark – maybe three, vicious

in pursuit: threatening limbs

that churn, that battle, downward-destined and

ploughing through rubber when there’s sharks

all around, there are sharks

there below

How I spend my nights, afloat, and awake,

spent

Author: Elly McDonald

Art lover. Loves her family and companion animals. 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 briefly tried teaching, primarily teaching English to non-English speaking, newly-arrived refugees but also 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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