Blues for an Old Photograph Girl, if you knew what was coming, you'd flee. Girl, I know you will suffer and grieve, and curl on the floor like a witchetty grub, and bleed. Young. You are young, and strong – you're strong. Just never enough, or for long. Cross your arms on your chest – that's …
Joanna Preston: Tasmanaut Poet
A Dark Feathered Art 