What happens in the dark
New Pelion campsite, Overland Track, Tasmania - Day 3
The night is a bedlam of black market activity.
Wind takes the trees by the collar and shakes them down for change.
Wombats crunch on button grass like Mafioso on cigar stubs.
Edgy pademelons rip at plants already nibbled back to the shoot.
I zip myself free of bag and tent. No suspects are in evidence
but I feel their presence, the way a poem can state the facts
but is more powerful for playing it close to the chest.
The moon adjusts its spotlight for interrogation.
Constellations gather around the Milky Way,
avoiding each others’ eyes.
They warm themselves by its glow, waiting for the inevitable.
Something always gives.
The wind holds its breath until the snitch cracks -
blazing its tinsel truth across the night.
by Rachel Mead
Rachael Mead is a South Australian poet. She has been published in literary journals in Australia and internationally and is the author of three poetry collections: Sliding Down the Belly of the World (Wakefield Press 2012), The Sixth Creek (Picaro Press 2013) and The Quiet Blue World (Garron Publishing 2015).
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