2359
7.166
16.vi.26
a
quiet desperation
ekphrastic
for Fred McCubbin’s 1896 ‘on the wallaby track’
ticks, snakes, spiders
just for a start
expect sun to burn
tent to leak
the natives
no, they’re taken care of
why,
and what were you thinking
here’s a little shade away from the tent
little languish
belt holding up the pants for now
the grass like rust, a gnarl of trunk
nothing yet a stump
axe holds down the wind
gather twig bent to the billy
do you think it floods here?
summer’s coming
it gets away
the child is showing how half a chance
we’d all crawl off
this one’s a biter
the wallabies have fled
everything’s ready for settlement
nothing will ever grow straight here
soon this will all be fire
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