stone@ulster.net 

Campfire at Tjukula - 
Central Australia

Out here
the night sky is so bright
you can hear the Seven Sisters 
screaming in the dark,
frightened by that Old Man - 
that greedy one 
who would take them all 
for wives.

The foot of the wedge-tailed eagle
presses against the sky.
And everywhere,
heaven is littered 
with spears.

In Scorpio, two lovers
unable to separate
run for their lives
pursued by waputju 
(the girl’s father),
and by the guardian of
the circumcision ceremony.
The boomerang flying to kill them
explodes 
in a cloud of dust.

Tutama 
prods the fire with a stick,
waiting for my reply.

Whitefella way different way; 
I tell him:
stories of black holes,
Schrodinger’s cat,
the Big Bang,
one hundred eighty-six 
thousand miles
per second.

You see that star? I say.
It might’ve blown up
before you were born, 
but
its light is 
still coming 
towards us.

Tutama reaches for
a lump of bush tobacco 
behind his ear; 
rolls it silently 
between dry palms.
Skin warm.
Stomach full.
Not wanting to
disturb the universe,
he accepts what I say
with the dignity 
of a man
who understands 
how a whitefella 
will tell you almost anything.

© Copyright, 011/01/99, Billy Marshall Stoneking
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.