Of Bad Bone and Picture Book: Darwin 1999

Regretful,
sad,
heavy.

A big stone in a pocket,
that I want to throw in a river.

But cannot,
because now its
more than a memory.

It was a black man in
the white sun.

Who was,
spat,
punched,
kicked.

For colour,
history,
reconciliation.

The theft of a picture book,
from a gift shop.

I am bad bone.

Because.
I saw it happen,
then walked away.

It’s a big stone.
I am mean.