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Sea Krait, Broome
How slow an approach when viewed from a distance. How more likely the encounter if the ground is clear A voice saying always “go ahead” calls it freedom Above the 27th parallel is the heat I know as home, in my bones always untouched by city’s cool centrifuge that refracts a kind of light which bursts and vanishes on the spot Heading North, I escape the fray Green hem of the outskirts, roadside façade of forest, hiding a casement of burnt earth, silent as myself Outside, a poet ghosts a window Writing back into life his night parrots. I drive lines from water to water, guzzle roadhouse coffee Warming up, there is a conflict of appetite, a suburban tree, black with cockatoos shucking almonds A dolphin trapped in a rock pool Cane toads storming the Kimberley in wet, find it planted with sugar An olive python curled under a van belly beaded with feral kittens After three days of seated travel I lunge from the car, sprint the length of jetty, deaf to the man screaming warning. Only in midair do I look down to the sea, the time it takes to panic Two yellow-and-black krait, vivid bandwidth of danger, turning on the turquoise surface, and all I can do, is fall