by Coral Carter

She baked wild duck
in the new kitchen
the window framed with geraldton wax
each saucered petal from elsewhere
as blowflies hummed spring in.

She cooked roo-tail brawn
in the new kitchen
built by her departed brother
painted dead white, a grief
family laughter could not drown

She soaked rabbits
in the new kitchen
paid the kid at the door
in his rabbit gut-smeared jeans
his belt hung with traps.

She baked quondong pies
in the new kitchen
served on the scorched table
a reminder of misadventure
and an abandoned hot iron.

She baked—soaked—cooked
homesick in her new kitchen
the window framed by geraldton wax
each needle-sharp leaf
pinned her thoughts elsewhere.