for David Gilbey
fire-engine flash of fox pelt
and a plume of tail
fluffy…like some oil-well ablaze on a Gulf War postcard
and from the body
it was fleeing at a 2 o'clock incline
almost innocent in the ebb of dawn
above the vineyards at Booranga
sauntering erratically
as a red beacon
across the screen of a life-support monitor
up and down and away
this alien enigma upon Wiradjuri skin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem