Skeleton trees hang earnest above
And roos hop over the grassy lake,
Magpies stop to pay their respects
As I lie in my Mitsubishi escape.
The bush mice waltz to Matilda’s tune
As sun sets over the billy’s boil,
But hearts and hands have lost their way
To the pregnant fields where I once toiled.
Arthur’s pastels melt up above my mind
And over the silent turbine dreams,
Metal beasts riding high, cast
Stolen shadows on whitewashed streams.
Ancient sanctity swapped for our
Anticipatory emptiness,
Our standard may wave in the metal claw,
But we’ll never outpace the serpent’s hiss.
