from over the scarp, fire wind barks: hot

is the lot given to us who live in Perth. UV
so white it’s like invasion all over again. climate

change an explanation that pollies deny, a vain
blame game, but proof is there in how roads turn

to liquid asphalt, trees break off branches to fetch, 
begin whistling for dogs. a firestorm rumbles in

the scrub & bush we have as ornamentals around 
metropolitan hub. still the temperature climbs &

coals city in burning hold. release folds when the 
Indian Ocean coils sol into horizon: until then, we

sweat a wet earnt from perspiration, expect snow 
to fall from the flame fission & floral combustion.