Elly McDonald

Writer

World’s End (1983)

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So mistaken

she looks frightened, wan

a blank face, and dull

no understanding (like a peasant)

no response (a smacked-out hooker)

one

person emptied bleak

alone and

nothing in the world can make this right

Patagonia

iceflint fear

 

Life, more or less – more often

less – a desolate chill

remote

this is nowhere

she knows

she’s nothing, lichen on a rock

but if

still saying nothing

she just sits

and smiles the next time

life will go on

still clinging

much as before

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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