there will be another tragedy


on this new estate built
on marginal land

called something like
mango hill

there is a swell that tilts
the curving streetscape

each frontage
a footprint

few trees
few trees

i don’t know what mango hill
was called

before it was called mango hill
or what devilment

it holds close
can’t overlook

but it looses
unrepentant dogs

from outdoor entertaining areas
to monster us

the first time
a big-chested brute with jaws

made a thrust at a tender child
the woman who held the slipped collar

turning it between her hands
hardly murmured sorry

the second time a woman screamed
— the collar has broken!

an arrogant upstanding dog
went hell for leather

a narrow squeak
home safe

the front door locked shut
and outside the dogs




Jennifer Compton lives in Carrum out on the Frankston line. She is a poet and playwright who also writes prose. When it comes to the poetry side of things she likes to have it every which way possible. She very much likes winning the Newcastle Poetry Prize and being given the big cheque. And she also very much likes the hurly burly of the open mic. She has been known to slam, but very, very gently.

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