melanie rees

New land.
Fertile. Free. And barren. Barren
except tree, vine and the Chinchanu:
The silly cat–like critters with beastly claws...

In the dark she sings,
She holds my hand tight in hers:
Limbs tender, voice soft.
Clouds part, the moon shines upon
Green skin...

Dear Santa,

Am I on your good list? Mum and Dad reckon I’ve been good, and brave. I did eat a chunk of Christmas pudding last...