Elly McDonald

Writer

Underwater (1982)

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When he speaks he hears his voice

distorted, shrill – faraway

When he moves

he meets resistance; his progress is stifled

confused, he can’t feel –

no feet, no ground

like living underwater

this stark, still environment tints his vision

chill green

strident luminosity but

he’ll adjust. He’ll grow

clear hard scales, his blood

will run cold – transform to

survive. He’ll learn;

a dampened organism, tongues

insinuate, forever

in motion. He’ll see

through shell-pale eyes now

salt won’t sting

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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