The arrival of the monsoon ―

meant a town full of clean cars. but people kept buying imported water

filling the damp winds with thirst

and filling the rivers with empty bottles, floating by like dreams of escape

parrots, dogs, cats, and mice making a beeline to the hills

peeled wrappers, plastic bags and fruit skins surrender

all is awash of senses, all is clean

even beetles scurry with their now shiny armour

while the rain falls and falls

a cane toad hides in a potted palm tree

the arrival of the monsoon in Melbourne enticed dugongs south, and the reef

made silent flowers beneath the line of sight

tis a pity the monsoon did not venture into Sydney’s wastrel music cigarette

        butt paths, cleansing – giving witness to new creations

perhaps she is en route, somewhere far off, somewhere far from, somewhere 	lost

        on some other beaten track like a good time wild girl will, she is waylaid,

        last seen in wine country

dimly drunk and blowsy with potential

like Australia.

Go away and cry a mean Australian rain

to the monsoon that is woman and the drought that is man.

I will not be emptied thus

though my hips melt into the formless sea

like a seal in an oilslick

waking up in Ipswich or some such state of mind

begat an outpouring of joy and singing, snakes swimming in the creeks

        being caught and threaded into lay