In the middle of burnt dirt
with the odd Mulga
lookin’ like unbrushed hair.
We don’t dare fan the flames
of the dead ones
out here in this no law land.
In burning heat, we suffer
through thoughts
muddled into dirt and sky.
We wish for cold grey skies
with kept trees
lookin’ like English Butlers.
In the outback, we wonder
about the dead
as the daylight turns to night.
We stand sipping hot water
with muddled
feelings about this old land.
Outside we look towards the
sea of starlight
in this dark open landscape.
We remove all traces of the
spaces between
us as we finally understand.
C & K 