At the end
the days are long and hot
and the nights are long and cold.
The only plants left
repel tongues, survive
fire. The only animals left
can hide anywhere.
The few remaining humans, knowing
no more, suck faint amity
from the bitter needles, greyish
trees, grey creatures and grey
and ochre rock.
Earthface thrusts out flare-flowers: one more vanity:
howl-azure, shriek-cerise, desperation-gold.
First published in Creatrix
Published in the Fremantle Press Anthology of Western Australian Poetry
From lemon oil
Jackson 