Beyond your stage 
          the audience murmur
men and women weep 
and silk their skin bare,
for here and gone and taken.
Held by mostly mountains now
you wear crowns
of returning eucalypt:
          I can’t see your lashes
          but feel them still soft
like that skin they try to skin
to wear you with words
and all them names they reason 
and rub out.
All this might be lonely
unmarked and highwayside
but then the stars come here
to shine the shape of song
and hear you say
          it’s nice 
          to have someone
          to talk to.

Evelyn Araluen Corr reads 'K1: Yellomundee'