I was tiny once, under these vast skies
but last night’s ghost was of a girl, naked on a rock
her eyes, the colour of river.
Yesterday, the roadtrain kicked up dustclouds
small stones hit the windscreen like rain.
Fences that couldn’t pretend to keep the wind out
kept one sheep in, a sheep heavy with lamb.
It is a hot, West-Queensland town
where I wake to the circling of a wedgetail
a hunger, red as the sky.
I would wander like water through the river of her eyes.