Desert Dreaming

A violent scene lay before me

Huddled in death, there’s Ella, Mary-belle, everywhere I could see

Swollen tongues, sunken eyes, frail bodies strewn in the hot powdery dirt

I sniff the sharp stench of death, I catch my breath, swallow, stomach clenched, alert

Stark rocky outcrops blister amongst the sharp needles of spinifex grass

Stones, sand, mica glints, ants scurry about their tasks

Red dirt, blue sky, sun bears down relentless upon the tin roof of the station

Majestic hills, once coral reefs, chinamen pushed wheelbarrows up them, Dinosaurs, Indigenous people walked here long ago in my imagination

Soft bursts of purple feathery flowers of Mulla Mulla joyfully sway in the crisp air this morning locked in the perrenial embrace of that blue blue sky

Frivolous dollies those desert girls, with their sweet smell and blush as I walk by

I think I’ll put a bullet in my head in that very spot

To die in such fine company, you make tough choices on the land, easy as, why not

5,000 cattle dead, I’d cry but there’s no more water in my eyes, in a blink all gone, so terribly wrong

I’ll sleep with my cows tonight, Ella, Mary-Belle, in the Mulla Mulla desert dreaming on the land I was born and where I belong