Shield

We dodge sedge and thistles
through overhanging branches
on the riverbank kangaroo trail,

stirring dust of ancient artisans.
I see their shadows,
stone axes ready as they scan
red gums for smooth trunks
with the perfect girth.
Sure-strokes chime, stripping
bark-sheets down to the sapwood.
We find the elliptical cicatrices.

My scars are hidden
behind a cage of ribs
by sinew and muscle
where each slap
each bruise
each angry word
shaves a sliver
from my core
leaving a hollow husk.