Kangaroos in my blood and other poems
five rose bushes
day to come
oh the wonder of a kangaroo morning
with bouquets for the mob
From dreamtime to the cull, E A Horne's poetic sequence Kangaroos in my blood is rooted firmly in Australia, and is at once a love song and a lament.
A kind of dreaming from afar, Kangaroos is here flanked by poems that take us away in order to bring us home, wrenching us in and out of ourselves in language that is both tender and brutal, with 'the rattle, thresh and slice/of currawong wings/so low and loud/I hear the effort it takes/to fly'.
Bounding from Europe to the high desert of New Mexico to Melbourne and the tablelands of New England, these are poems that ache with love and love of country, questioning the notions of patriotism, belonging and faith, understanding that 'we are all temporary citizens'.