Heat.(Poem)

 
HEAT 
 
   Floorboards buckle, 
   cicadas crawl from rock-hard ground, 
   begin their climb up baking gum trees; 
   the leaves are dropping early. 
   Wings spread in a slit of shade, 
   two magpies crouch, red throats agape. 
   No tap drips, no grass runs green 
   to garden beds; even geraniums wither, 
   tired of grey-water rations; 
   worms lie still, there is no work for them. 
   The hopeful buds of roses 
   scorch before their time is come 
   while disconsolate hens 
   settle for a dry dust bath. 
 
   These mornings are not fresh: 
   along the cracks in walls 
   cockroaches creep; 
   men have ceased to whistle 
   and quarrels come to ...