I stumble; down to the creek bed that no longer runs down to rust-red clay, cracked like elephant skin down to bury myself beneath the bleached bones of a fallen scribbly gum

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Smooth milk-bottle skin salted caramel sauce eyes, butterscotch snaps me to attention.

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He said // This is your fault.It was twenty-three years ago.When I tried to speak dirt choked mythroatso I lay on the forest floora summer storm cooling the earthand I was quietas he destroyed me.

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