Imagine waking early one morning
To the stirring sounds of birds. Yawning,
you carry a coffee out to the back
yard, only to notice that a mound of black
dirt has appeared overnight. In the dawning
sunlight you find the face of a small child glare
blindly back at you from the cold, bare
soil, its eyes ringed like those of a baby
panda. Yet these are unmistakeably
human features that stare
down the sky. In a labour of dead earth,
you play the midwife by laying a stillbirth
gently beneath the scented lemon trees
and bright hibiscus flowers. Honeybees
orbit a pair of opening eyes with mirth.