The Match
An ambition of princes
lit that brushfire.
With kindling of privilege
& an excuse of the chill
they’ll go on to burn most of the forest
then clear the remainder as prophylactic,
a plan for a future.
Eventually nothing now left to incinerate.
Certainty is like asbestos
protects so well
it kills you.
Rain comes.
There’s a new narrative, a story or excuse
about the wildlife overpopulation problem.
Potential Farmland is wasted on
invasive waves of ochre-brown fur,
hundreds riding the glut. Just so many pests.
I wanted to write abundance
full lakes, cascades
& then tease a twist of blue from the sky.
Marsupial eyes in the underbrush,
interested but aloof.
Waratahs free to tell rich crimson jokes,
we really need a good laugh, not
this polemic (unified as it is,
so many screeching the same complaints
like an electrocuted choir).
But we are tied onto the change
& now when sky drops its smoky coat
that torn blue is just another mockery.
Share This
