The Inland Food Bowl

A gapped circle of colonies

each staring at the ocean

through a glass plaid of imports.

Inland lies the still uncrowded

heartland once of steamboats and drawl,

now half desert, half freshwater province. 

There the Murray descends its seven thousand

feet off the Pilot, zigzags over the plains,

forest and furrow, towards an outfall wash.

Shallow rivers connect to this one, or slant north

where the dragon Ceratodus grunts in ivory mail

and streets are shaded in peppercorn and willow.

Having monstered tribesfolk,

dressed POWs in maroon,

it now flickers dials, or pipes experienced water

onto rice, onto cotton, on to Adelaide,

Western rivers merge down the Darling

above the flint blade

and reburied bones of the Warrior

as snow wind chills the saltbush

down from seven thousand feet.