34-37 Degrees South: Easy reading version

Black Holes in Green Hills
Dorothy Swoope
We travel through black holes in green hills,
lush rainforest with steep descents to the sea
the horizon a smeared bruise of smoke
from autumn hazard reduction burns.
There is something comforting about riding
the train in the middle of the day
the alternating click and clack in the ‘quiet car’
where only station announcements break the rhythm.
Beside the track lies abandoned industry:
chutes and funnels, remnants of the coal loader
now rusting in sea air. Once it bellowed
a cacophony of sound and rained black dust
over the village below.
From the last carriage I see the front of the train
as we corner the terrain and I wonder
where is everyone going
and where have we been.
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