Elizabeth Walton
She Collects Things
After Toolah by Lucy Culliton
Limber hounds on couches lounge
around the fire this winter hour
as she collects things—
doggies, track-time down.
It starts as Rosco fails his barrier trails—
at Bibbenluke, first light begins.
Greyhounds running round,
new nose for this new home.
The start gun stops, you lucky dog,
now living your best life.
Limber hounds on couches lounge
around the fire this winter hour.
That old racetrack is out of bounds, no rabbits here or hares, chase
paintbrush bristles, whittled white
long legs on mottled couch. Ring ring, ring ring:
Luce, can you take another one?
Lucy: as if!!!! I’ve got Reddie, Winnie, Max and Posie. Six months apart
these siblings, six, or maybe eighty starts
and fifteen-thousand-dollar Dapto wins.
Lucy? Yeah, okay then, righteo. I’ll come back for Toolah.
She collects things, doilies, dahlias,
dust in boots and horns.
Meet Maxie, Mollie, Mayday—
at first light, begin the rounds.
Meet Toolah, Reddie, Winnie, Posie,
hounds on couches
lounge around the fire
this winter hour. Dapto. Out of bounds.
Lupin petals scatter down. Toolah on the couch.
Doilies, prairies, pigeons, ponies. Framed up on the walls.
She once drew only horsy ‘draughts’
and now collects these reasons.
Reasons paint a story—
things, like life collecting things, collecting life
collecting limber hounds on couches
lounged around the fire this winter hour.
