New Poetry by Sean Wright

Black Snake Driving

We drive

north to the next town;

pass fields of stubble, grey

in late summer heat.

The road slows and stretches out;

a long black snake

basking in the morning sun.

Straight, the ride lulls us

to a meditative state.

Sheep so still, a quick

glance sees them stone;

small granite boulders nosing through

the lee side of the hill.

We drive

north to escape the sense

that standing still

is one foot out of six

beneath the ground.

Road side’s littered with plaques

that mark the resting place

of towns half remembered in

the double barreled names

of the district football teams -

Premiers ‘06,

‘07 and ‘13

We drive

north, the vista

never seems to change

but ruined farmsteads

claw up from the scrub;

each year sees them less

above ground than before.

Limestone monuments

forestalling the end of a dream.

We drive

north and the next

town feels just like

the one we left behind.

Familiar looks in faces

resigned to settling down.

Dusty streets, shriveled

grass, young children marched

off to a school

that bears family names

on halls, fund raised

playground sets

and clay-brick memorials

We drive on

and on, that long black snake

to feel it curve back
upon itself.

- Sean Wright 2016

SB Wright was born in Nhulunbuy, Arnhem Land, though most of his life has been spent in Alice Springs. A graduate of NTU he has spent his adult working life as a security guard, a martial arts instructor, a trainer in an international gaming company and as a secondary school teacher.

His work has been published in Tincture Journal, INDaily Adelaide, Eureka Street,  A Hundred Gourdes and the Anthologies: The Stars Like Sand, 50 Haikus and the forthcoming Poetry & Place (2015).