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Port Moresby


I am squatting on the steps
a red hibiscus in my hair

my skin at ten is not yet ravaged
by years of light

I turn away as the camera clicks
on the steps leading

to the glass door with a row of blue
swallowtail decals

to stop us smashing through

soon things will happen
I will survive but not fully

recover from the break ins
breakups the break

downs and it will all happen
here in this teeming

white light that washes
the features from my face and glints

off my kneecap like a bullet


Bronwyn Lea

The Deep North
George Braziller


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