Gary Raymond

You spun to see I had not followed you,

The excitement fading from your pose

Like I had removed my thumb from your bruise.

We were close enough to argue

But you dipped your head and fiddled

Around a rusting button in the damp

Ruffled silence of these heavy mountains.

It was for these moments that I kept you,

When the roots were wrapping loosely

‘round the stem, when the gum

Was getting thicker than the cud.

You spun to see I had not followed you,

A season tumbled somewhere still,

Like handles sawn from iron gates.