the sky has been emptied

no apocalyptic blotches

or mountainous smudges of smoke

no hysterical fury hot enough

to melt Jurassic soils
from a subterranean bunker

over the vanished wilds

a red-bellied black snake

accidentally reenacts

the gasping ember glow
where birdsong was boundless

is silent

just the scatter

of a copper-tailed skink

on guard from a rock parapet
where the forest was full

is skeletal

the sapwood chapped

like starless midnight scutes

of crocodilian armour
in the acrid air

in the cold cindered void

primal cells contemplate

a last stand

an epicormic murmur
but who can tell the temperature of blood

when there’s no light

to cast shadows

from a new moon

in March