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Driving to Lawn Hill

Nana Ollerenshaw

Aug 31 2010

1 mins

 Out here the highway starts with reassurance

but soon will dump its drivers on rough dirt,

washboard roads to unfenced silence

an aftermath of dust.

Passing drivers lift a finger

knowing this red country can

destroy, a landscape simplified

to sky, earth, air and fire

but no water: the braided rivers run with sand.

The road leads on deeper into myth

towards fear in bareness, heat,

flat in all the compass points

so when a destination comes,

presents a campground, toilets, gorge,

the green of hidden water, palms,

a tiny spill of people, who’ve also driven here,

it’s like redemption.

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