Lorraine Haig

Kristen Lang
 

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air cannon                                                
the sky fills
with cockatoos
 

my hand at the calves’ noses                
when the dog arrives
 

 
herding sheep
the fluid form
of the flock
 

 
shadows at dawn
bats swooping their arcs
back to their hollow
 

 
heat shimmer
round a wobble of camels
 

 
a boomer’s skitter
cascades through the mob
roo country

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