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Grief
Tegan Jane Schetrumpf (University of Sydney, Australia)

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My ginger girl
I crossed the sparse and weedy grass
to where you waited,
silent, still.
Your head at ankle height,
cut off
by a brown ditch guillotine.
Below the opaque water,
mud had swallowed your paws.

Ears down, you were grace itself
the way you never were
with brooms, bikes or children;
trust was honey in your eyes.

Even as you heard my footfalls
you knew
I would lie on my stomach
bring us nose to nose
and feel for your cold fur
in the elusive muck.

Together we traversed
my empty childhood wilderness
squelching beside lakes of rotting weed.

When I fell, I floundered.

You waited with a patience
never known to sinking man.

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Tegan Jane Schetrumpf writes poetry and creative non-fiction, and is completing her Masters of Letters at the University of Sydney. She has been published in Wet Ink, Southerly and Meanjin and is currently working on a poetry collection called Women’s Weapons.

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