Green Heart, Red NeckThe veins in his temples pulsed
red like the inside of a lava lamp
everytime the earth angered him
or a breakdown got in his way.
Sometimes his arms & legs
& face were stained black when
he came in off the tractor.
His hands clenched into fists
at the kitchen table as if he were
still gripping the steering wheel
or trying to bend spoons
with his mind.I had no comprehension
of this man communing for hours
with nature from the inside
of his air-conditioned cab.
What did he think about to pass
the dark hours of his pilgrimage?
This cyborg whose spotlights
would rake the side of the house
late at night like a beast whenever
he turned to cut a new coal mine
out of the deep pit of his eyes.The False Southern Cross shining
faintly like the windows of a farmhouse
pointing him in some other direction
to the one he wanted to travel.
Falling stars raining on the night
of his world like bogong moths
crowdsurfing on his headlights.
All I knew was that sometime
during the long haul of his ploughing
he made his peace with the earth
& kept it right until the very end.Right up until the moment
his green, deciduous heart
dropped its dead leaves,
& his red neck slowly
faded out of sight & mind
like a sunset.
