Poetry
In the Grip of It All
by Chris Wallace-Crabbe •
Greenly, intensely, oddly
It is the day you wake up walking in
A scape you wandered bluntly through
Several hundred dreams ago
or so:
The same tin sheds and staggered hedge,
Identical diagonals and chosen fork
Into the trampled path: somehow
Also bone-grey asphalt soon enough.
It’s tough
Continue reading for only $10 per month. Subscribe and gain full access to Australian Book Review. Already a subscriber? Sign in. If you need assistance, feel free to contact us.