1986
he pays no heed to the thunder god
yet he is wary and tired
’cause you see funny things out here
as the heat gets you,
twigs snapping behind him
when suddenly in some places the breeze just stops!
all his hair stands to attention
this black man from a northern people
whose world has nothing to do
with the road ripping through
the wetland
but he is sensitive
is conscious
with dealings and bills
and mouths to feed,
a witness to the machines eating the tea-tree
clawing the soil
burning this patch of bush
for someone else’s lust of bitumen and noise
well, he just has to keep moving
despite the dark shadows of ochre and skin
that tempt the mind’s eye to ponder
what was
and never may be