Kerri SHying R # 558 - the topsoil of the country would stay

drought is in our faces now   the sea

the blue distraction   no help from

the dusted wind   I hear the back door

slamming   like a drummer    why

not rub it in    where did we think

the topsoil  of the country  would stay

not a drink to wet it down   roots

so far forgotten  they are frailer than a

thought   death lasts longer   the whole place

is on the move   still we  can’t modify

a thing   until our nostrils   cake