This afternoon is a clean-picked bone. No fat on the land,
light white as Minton and terribly brief. Ground underfoot
all puddle and indigence.
Look at us walking the track to the farm. My bag holds
a cauliflower; you have your apron on under your coat.
We’ve got each other.
a cauliflower; you have your apron on under your coat.
We’ve got each other.
