Rumours of Death
We're not light enough to travel;
as dense rumours madden
a mind's eye to stammer
to the possibility of ashes.
Neither can we calm, while searchlights
are cast on moors, outbacks…
that great expanse either breathing
or swallowing up evidence of bone.
The earth speaks of this proof,
as moistened landfills mourn.
We'd place our ears to surmise
where woods speak that news
with fallen leaves for burial;
rumours dissolved at these shallow graves,
by spades, for a pinch of fact.