by Mark O’Flynn
Red ochre roads
beneath salmon scaled
Pilbara skies. Once a Japanese
bomb took out the airfield.
Sunsets also a highlight,
termite mounds too,
as on nights of the full moon
when light skates across the mudflats,
illusion of a staircase to the sky.
Down the back of the shell museum
if you have to go you have to go,
an old outback shed with a long
drop inside. Over in the corner
awaiting their moment, look,
a tower of children’s coffins
reaching to the roof.
Not all children though.
Just thinking ahead.