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in the presence of a photo of
your mother, aged twenty three
her hands folded and covered in glitter
her hair long and black
The woman’s hands
are tied behind her back –
her hands are not allowed
to speak for her.
The interrogator lays his knife
Three bluetongues reside in our steep bush garden
of sandstone ledges and the stumps of fallen trees.
One is content to doze under a rock while around her
everyone chatters; one lost the pointy end of its tail