Great Red Sandstone Continent

 

The conspiratorial scampering
Of wind-blown cellophane, and the heavier
Shiftings of a polystyrene box weighed
Down with the remains of
Last night's kebabs
Upset me.

Thoughts that should dart
Faster than light to their vanishing-point
Deviate
To counter some insult, some
Indignity, some humiliation.

My consolation was once to dream
Of an empty city: the sun
Shining into untenanted offices and
Fading, decade by decade, the fittings
To odourless dust; the rainwater
Washing clean the streets and sewers,
Driving hard into open doorways.

But these days disgust
Projects me further: to the Great Red
Sandstone Continent, whose most
Luxuriant growth is lichen
Sucking hard on dry rock, whose
Tallest vegetation is knuckle-high moss.
Dragonflies hovering a metre from the ground,
Dominate its skies, finger-length,
Finger-lithe lizards are its
Biggest predators. A salt breeze
Blows over it always.

Tom Nolan    10.05.2009