The red earth.
Like baked blood,
glowing behind her.
Her gold, freckled hands,
shield the greenest eyes.
Saluting the sun,
as it drops.
A dead weight.
Flaming,
in moments.
Hemispheric.
Kissing the rock.
Then rousing,
the cliffs of Dover,
and home.
i suggest.
'Maybe'.
She shrugs.
All nonchalant,
and knowing.
Later.
Under swaggered stars.
The land buzzes.
Crawling bugs,
of outback endeavour,
feed the night.
A demented radio,
scratching our skin.
Bleaching the legs.
The world deafens us,
to touch.
The first time,
in a long time.
