Bush Fire Walk
dry snap
of bark scrub
underfoot
shard light triangles
between tendril dead
beige blades
brittle straw grass fields
din of fly hum
detachment of life from water
what bubbles up in the skin
under Australian blues and yellows
melanin rise
from wan soil
history to the surface
searching for rain in the fire
the dust grey city
the sky towers
Christmas Hills and the Meaning of Dreams
four grey-dead trees protrude steel blue water
a dream of my sister-in-law
smoky residue coats trunks in pallor-white dust
I walk through my childhood corridors shiny
grassed mounds in butter-yellow straw
returning to a classroom I don’t remember
green rise tapers to water’s edge
pines introduced, natives thrive side-by-side, the dry
outside the room, the asphalt
monotonous din of insects behind
the bushes where I hid
foliage juts beyond canopies, a covered hillside
on the shoreline toppling in waves, my father obscured again
water ripples in currents as far as I can see
The Old School House, Ntaria
my first visit I did not know the
red dirt you place with the
decayed brick you think of
people not here anymore
who do not enter grounds
contempt in the pursing of
pink white lips