I have wandered the dunes and found the shallow indentations of two castaways at rest. Tussocks of sword grass cling to the sand like fingers entwined in hair, their leaves scissoring the sky. I have stumbled from one end of the isthmus to the other searching for foot prints left by the tide. Bones of driftwood roll in shallows, tossing and turning like restless insomniacs. Small fish trapped in rock pools remember your feet, while the bristling urchins flaunt crimson spears, a clattering battle at the point of stillness.
RHETORICAL QUESTIONS
How will we know what to ask when all the sparrows have been silenced?
Who will open the crypts when the last stones have been carved?
Where in the haystack is the truth’s needle? When will the dog have its day?
Why not bite the hand that feeds you? Who will take us to task in our squandering?
Is sink or swim the only choice we get?
Why should we offer our throats in either sacrifice or homage?
What would a saved earth look like, begging in its rancorous rags?
Mark O’Flynn is an Australian writer. His fourth novel The Last Days of Ava Langdon was shortlisted for the 2017 Miles Franklin Award, the Prime Ministers Literary Award. His most recent collection of poems was the chapbook Shared Breath from Hope St. Press.