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page 13   

freed on weekends
from forceps and scalpel
my father
rides his white horse
across wind-cleansed paddocks

space Cynthia Rowe – Australia


stubble fields
stiff in autumn sunshine
bristly and tough
as my father's whiskered chin
wind roughened and raw

space Lynda Monahan – Canada


last exit
for a hundred miles . . .
he looked so sad
when he said he'd never
hit me again

space David Terelinck – Australia

big rigs
down the highway
all night
cows bellow
for lost calves

space Rodney Williams – Australia


smudged ink
on his postcard
not tears
but rain falling
in the miles between us

space Sheila Sondik – USA


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