The Boggy Hole
The rain has moistened, softened earth, my spade, I take, my bulbs, my worth, I slice into its grassy girth. Clouds gather low, no sound, no soul, I dig, I dig, the boggy hole. I strike a rock; I fling said stone beyond the hill so overgrown, a crack resounds and then a moan. I dare not raise my head, a soul! I dig, I dig, the boggy hole. A beetle zooms into my teeth, a sharp, cold shell, a clack so brief. Did stone smash to the skull beneath? I dare not look to see the soul, I dig, I dig, the boggy hole. I plant the bulbs, so glistening white, roots gritty, straggling in the light. I pray, I wish with all my might, not limp like leaf, lies below soul, My tears, they soak the boggy hole.
Boarding Bush Girl
They talk rough with me at that place. I’m gunna run away miss, I’m gunna run away after school. I’m gunna get on the wrong bus miss. They talk rough with me. They say I hav’ ta clean the bus. Yeah, I ride in the bus. But I don’t wanna clean the bus. This weekend, they say we gunna hav’ ta clean it, I’m gunna run away. It’s a prison, miss. I ran away before, to the river, me and my friend, we camped by the river. That was me miss, I was running through the bush at the back a’ your place. You in Katherine East, miss? That was me and Junior, we was running, we was laughing in the night. Me afraid? Nah not me. I’ll get a big, ya know… a big club miss, from the tree and I’ll hit him and run. I run real fast miss. Nah, I can run faster. I’m not homesick. I don’t want to go home miss. My brother, he’s a man now, he said if I run away again, he’ll break my jaw. I’m gunna run away miss. They talk rough with me. It’s a prison, miss. I’ll hit him and run. I run real fast.
Nicola currently teaches English and Literature in Cairns, Australia. She has worked as an actor, script writer, voice-over artist and creative producer. She enjoys writing poetry in her spare time.
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