Stretches of road roll

out through an open expanse of country. Paving over

parched grass, washing out ancient riverbeds

A stark monotony has overtaken wherein all

the environment seems to have accepted; conformed to

that which has tried to tame it.


Infinite squares boxed up are

fenced off.


Motoring through this terrain of clipped shrubbery.

Only small stains of wildness allowed to remain;

loose branches dangling, charred trunks

left to rot, to fall away with the wind

Clasped together in the in between

of sprawling paddocks unfurled for miles out over

each side of flat asphalt.


You notice the chipped, rusting speedometer

waving haphazardly on handlebars as hills protrude

breaking grid formation though they rise up gently

they distort; disorder.


Ascending with them you glimpse

the untamed nature of their surroundings

The sheer size of space –

red earth masked by paved road, arid fields

once well-fed, now depleted – all still grabs

the breath in your throat,

holds tight whilst making you gasp.


To gaze out at grains dried

in the heat of a sun too hot overwhelms

opens up a seed that aids

in the sprouting of an insignificance.

Something that you can bury

Though it always somehow remains




By Emily Dale


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