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Macquarie Street Gatehouse
Afterwards
They said we were young bloods
inexperienced, wrong for the job.
Three of them and four of us.
The Governor couldn’t control us.
They say a lot of things, don’t they?
We didn’t plan it that way.
You could smell the tide
exchanging mud for brine
flower water like an out-of-season
apple in Lady Mary’s
hair. The chestnut on my right
was a hot head, for sure.
I can say, it happened fast.
Fast as in race, harness nipping
dust sea-foaming
full tilt—the avenue of oaks—
I could feel it coming
the mash of limbs
the smell of human blood.
Unendurable.
Someone should have told us
we were on our way
to a wedding not a funeral
but we were horses
they didn’t think.
By Miro Bilbrough
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Old Government House: To continue to the next historic location on the Parracons Poetry Path, follow the pathways and signs deeper into the gardens, taking the path that forks right to get to Old Government House.