White Australia

by Luke Otley

I’m on your sidewalk,
it’s red and bubbling

it’s turning like a spit in the heat

huge bodies of automobiles
are passing me by–

Australia

you are Toyota

Australia

you are four wheel drive

Australia

your tires are heavy
and black like dustbin lids used to be

before they tried to hide the waste
behind gentle toned greens,

back before foot operated lids,
before we tried to divorce ourselves

from what we’d made

Australia

every perfect panel
on every perfect pick-up

is a boring yawn born in me

Australia

with your volcano fudge sundae
richness

I’m sorry
I’m full
I’m sick to the soul