From this paddock
(which peters out
in trackless bush)
I can see my grandma’s pool
gleaming pink as the 
nonchalant blood-let sky

Around me, adults
murmur theories
“She might’ve
gone off to die”

their Tally-Ho tangle,
this rolling hedge -
a menacing dark
secured beneath.

And I peer in, looking
for that different 
brushed blackness
Aching for my aunt
her quiet tension
while inside
the fire crackles alone

Calling, calling
as the chill condenses
We’re searching for
the old doberman
eyes like sweetest sorrow
and ears soft as plums.

Frustratingly I can’t remember what happened. It’s a dreamlike but vivid memory.

9 thoughts on “Sassy

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