Published 19 June 202017 July 2020 · Poetry Poetry | Probation file: 29/1957 Tony Birch the juvenile a child in manner deceptively and dangerously alluring stained in dusky skin eyes big brown doe-like arresting his charm the mask of chaos at first blush perhaps a girl child? our desire to save quickens the heart light limbs soft voice pursed lips sweet honey-blonde hair as fine as, yes, silk but he is not to be mistaken for innocence on 30 September 1970 in the Year of Our Lord evidenced in Her Majesty’s Child Court Batman Avenue the juvenile acting with “malice aforethought” confronted an Officer of the Crown (page 7 para. 1) with a savagery previously unwitnessed by said Officer pages, entries, words contained within exhibit a sorry tale of inevitable fall from grace – troubled infancy, troubled schooling trouble trouble trouble – triplicate in bold in red underlined asterisked accordingly a predicted story of woe (page 22 para. 3) the child was “beaten repeatedly & severely” aged 10 years 7 months 12 days with metal bar trouser belt and fists by “person or persons” of child’s own blood the boy himself becomes that which he fears violence courses his veins and therefore – yes, therefore he must become the protected one by us for us and himself and for the country this the only Nation girt by sea Tony Birch Tony Birch is the author of Shadowboxing, Father’s Day, Blood, The Promise and Ghost River. He is currently research fellow in the Moondani Balluk Academic Centre at Victoria University. More by Tony Birch › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 27 September 20244 October 2024 · Poetry Because a wind blazes Dženana Vucic Because after autumn there are / other autumns, / we learn to eat the wind. / This is what we shall do / with all our anger. 6 September 20246 September 2024 · Poetry Debts of the robots Corey Wakeling Repaying the debts of robots, / I see me in your screen fatally, which is / to say oozed certainty across a whistle of craft.