On Chapman Hill

On Chapman Hill
for Pablo and Jenny


Let’s walk to get the city out
of our bones. I’ll show you red gums,
xanthorrhoea with spears, flame-tailed
black cockatoos — no strangers here
unless you hear the protea’s accent
on the evening breeze.

See, kangaroos’ paws break
the tractor tread marks, while
off that stony corner a body rusts,
wings and bonnets, flat trays
and drive shafts, welded
wildly by the elements.

Tonight, you’ll hear boobooks
stretch silence horizon to horizon
in the bright moonlight. It sends
Pancho into a barking frenzy,
shouting down the ghost in the trees -
attack his best line of defence.

Sure as day follows night, there’s
growth in decay. This land, once
Noongar, is now plotted and pieced. By
the water tank, old Buddha stands silent,
eyes hooded among raindrops sparkling
on gum leaves in sudden sunlight.