“This is distilled cartography of a woman’s life. From a child’s-eye view of drought and hardship in the outback to the pains and love of motherhood, Broughton turns her lens of brevity and poignancy on a rich life. With meticulous observation (‘a mopoke echoes its own hollow song’), wry humour (‘my mother is taking over my face’) and wordplay (‘he’s into zen bosom’), Belinda reflects on the panoply of human experience from the metaphysical (‘and the sun / sets / and rises again / each time /more / surprising’) to the basics of armpit hair and farts. A standout collection.” – Rob Walker
