…
We land at good airports to mudcrab.
Your ring touches mine — mudcrab!
Our eyes stroke cheeks hair (mudcrab,
someone is jotting a catch on the text mudcrab).
They can’t understand
why we can’t stop grinning over mudcrab!
Your suburb from the back verandah —
mudcrab entirely,
and the sad paper of our fleshly letters.
And the Brecht cassette in the dark’s
pinchgut racket
reels pure high black
live Brisbane basement midnight mudcrab.
…