To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain, and play with it. Charlie Chaplin

KOOKA 9

in the cave she rolls the big rock for table, for the desert wildflowers they pick each another
she carries many coolamons filled with river sand to soften the hard rock floor

she makes shelf from braided saplings to hold all the feathers given by the message birds
when he sleeps she polishes his weapons with goanna and emu fat till they glisten in fire light

he tells the story of the notches on his spear, the story of the maps on his woomera
their eyes fill with spot fires lit on his return

the other women laugh “get over yourself” they laugh “he’s not that good”
she smiles she knows him in the night

YANKUNYTJATJARA LOVE POEM

FOTO – BURA AT THE BEACHSHACK MARCH 2015

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