the black <br />cockatoos <br />hang <br />like heavy fruit <br />from the old cootamundra <br /> <br />their bolt cutter beaks <br />rip <br />rhythmically <br />and relentlessly <br /> <br />a marcato <br />a marcato <br /> <br />the ground <br />is peppered with discarded bark <br />and memories of 2007<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/goodbye-2007/
