The clouds are shaped
Like bullets today.
So many of them
Cutting past
That if you counted
All the wounds
You’d have to wonder
How much heaven had
For breath before its last.

And the river runs like gasoline.
It slips between the banks
And in the sand it blossoms
Carbon black, and hardly
Have the fishermen
The depth to cut the line.

The breeze feels
Like a whip in swing,
And all the apples taste of ore,
And if I had to guess
I’d say the same as all the others
So as not to be much trouble
While I’m waiting.

#Melbourne #Australia

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