by MARIA BONAR
red dirt, ancient flat top mountains
searing blue sky, scent of spinifex
a distant swollen boab tree
the silhouette of a rock wallaby
appears briefly on top of the mount
no breath of wind, no birdsong
I am a speck in the landscape
my dusty 4×4 an alien artefact
with Engel fridge, double fuel tanks
built-in water tank, swag in the back
parched, I sit in the shade, flask of
tea, cheese, crackers, crisp cold apple
rising heat bakes my feet
through my thin-soled court shoes
pindan dulls their shine.
silence absolute. A sudden breeze
whirls around me, cooling the
prickly sweat on my face and neck
the wind whispers in the air
like an echo of desert spirits
a goanna, miniature prehistoric
dinosaur steps silently into view
head swivelling, forked tongue
flicking. I sit rock still, breath held
eventually he ambles off
tea break over, I stow my flask
apply fresh lipstick, farewell the
Erskine Range. Resume the drive
over the shimmering bitumen
to Fitzroy Crossing
– Northern Western Australia