by Anne Zito

January
best month ever
red dust draws a path through hills littered in bleached bones
probably wallabies stuck staring at the moon
the riverbank is baked like a giant mushroom
cracks split a land hungry for rain.

White stillness thunders across the lake
a steamy stretch of open water
two mates plunge into the grit
nudge a boat chest high past tired shrubs
hair spreads over their heads
cooked inside like a boiled egg.

Sam straps his feet to the board
Scotty takes the wheel
throws out the rope
the key kicks, sides shake, fumes spit
engine revs
two stroke burns their throats.

Sam rises like a cobra
mounts the water
the breeze is a silver flame
riding the wake.
January
best month ever.