Gretel

to

Hansel
My torn blouse and calloused fingers—

these were relics of our adventure.

Eucalypt leaves that clung

in my hair; the long-stale brick

of gingerbread.
The bandages

that wrapped my shredded legs after

we emerged from the bush.
And our picture on the front page.
I also have the same old radio

we went back to—

the one that reported

only cattle prices and water levels, that

put out alerts when the fires arrived,
then, for one hour on Saturday night

played jazz.