Poetry

Midday, Kata Tjuta

Debbie Lim

Something has been left behind.
Great humps of rock prop up the sky
unevenly, the last remains
of some Dreamtime animal
now weathered into a motley of fossil-domes.

We walk between two of the largest ones.
The red walls tilt away and pour
in unbearable blue. It is a cathedral
in reverse: falling open overhead
to empty heat; narrowing down to a spired floor.

We step through quiet as visitors,
past precious vegetation and shaded rock,
where occasional pools of water sit
dark and still as old coins.

Debbie Lim