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SpineOut : February - March 2017
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UNTITLED 3 Thecausticstareofstreetlight,Intheeveningair,Hardlytakesinhandtheshell,Ofmyidledarling’sglare,Iflustbetheonlykindlylovewe’refreetohold,Andnothingisbestowedonliltedwingsthatbeatagainsttheblow,Then,MightitlookasthoughIcoilinherlapwithoutacare?Toansweratallyou’dbekept,Fromanidledarling’sglare... Poetry Liam, Age 15 Wagga Wagga Christian College Wagga Wagga NSW Late in July, my class was on an excursion in Tasmania, staying in a teensy Christian community called Poatina. I’d had a pretty nasty evening and I snapped at my closest friend, a girl I really cared about. Later, when I’d calmed down, I found her and asked her to go for a walk with me. The poem isn’t very intricate, and that facet comes from the walk. There was no universally complex conversation; we just walked and spoke our minds, disregarding how it might hold up in our friendship afterwards. When I got back to my room, it struck me how perfect the night had turned out. The poem might be austere, and pretentious (a cloud around a lot of my writing), but it’s special to me.
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