Gamilaroi Country

with respect
We rumble the turnoff

Quieting wood song on stone

Pick Hardenbergia sprigs

Purple haze to hang

On the rear view mirror
Empty face staring she

Swivels tack waiting

Out of frame a sphinx looks

Up two steps more a Monaro

In the backyard familial 
Alcoves contain only absence

Carved with emu feet walls of

Swirling rain pastel smoke

Faint whispers behind open

Windows on outstretched arms 
Framed by spindly trusses holding

Bluest sky sharing Uncle’s

Laminated face incongruous

The only one who shows himself

A ghost or a song we might sing 
For ersatz seekers in urban black

Scrambling inside digging footprints

In this sacred dust they say

Well others were here
She turns on her long legs

Faces the heat frozen crest

Marathoners straggling behind

Slowly drink in the clouds 
I wait in the wave face shadow

Struggle to reconcile for we

Cannot unhang the purple haze

What’s done has left these

Afterimages of illuminance