Out there ground imprisoned by drought
longs to escape in rain. Tussocks of
spinifex
inject the sky through needles.
The law of agony has sentenced
the thorny devil to wander its
scorching hell.
Look over the nearest rocks and
watch the sun
gloat over ants’ nests trying to
reach the clouds.
Why bother to expel breath here?
Better to conserve
every drop of sweat for the long
haul,
for the trudge over dune-oceans, and
twisted logs
sunk to the bottom of a lost
water-hole.
And that dingo hobbles, hesitant,
toward nowhere, fur ruffled by hints
of wind, teeth drooling for food,
without finding a companion
anywhere.
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