Tuesday, May 25, 2021

New Poetry by Rob Schackne


They walk at night 
in this old cottage 
above in the rafters 
a ceiling of riches 
below the floorboards 
where it wasn’t buried 
they whisper in the wall 
it was taken from 
some call them ghost 
or possums strolling 
the length of the house 
north to south and back 
ask if they’re friendly 
the hurt feelings 
all in a dream 
what do they say 
I listen to them chatter 
of poison and regrets 
it was a gold town

- © Rob Schackne 2021

Rob lives a (mostly) quiet life in Castlemaine, Victoria, where he writes and takes photographs. He shares a cottage built in the early 1850s.

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