in heaven’s dustbowl
I’m caught among willy-willies
that drive dirt in circles
rounding it up sharp-teethed & gentle
like a kelpie
until it’s a thing of wind’s will
twirling topsoil
displacing it in clouds
as ute does
down these dirt roads
that are here to confuse us
in wanderings
farm gates
misshapen gums
rusty wrecks of cars that didn’t make it
round corners
& spun over
& over
panel-beating down the roof
sandblasting paintwork in stilling dust
waiting for cursing driver to emerge
breathe deeply
shake themselves down
& hitch hike into town
most did emerge
(we felt unbreakable then
that speed was the cooling that slipped in
through half-open windows
that dust was for cars that followed
drivers easing off the accelerator
until we were far-off in the distance)
& only then the kookaburras broke the silence
laughing off the dry-grasses & spilt sunlight of day’s end.