Job. Chap 7.v.8
Grains of moss lie close to
the weathered gravestones.
August winds nibble our thin
bones. Slowly. Leaves shiver
underfoot. The green air trails
on the ground. Heavy. Eyes
closed. We see you blown lightly
off the South Head Cliff. Drowned
deeply in Sydney Harbour. Passing
away peacefully at Pyrmont. We
see you. The wind gnaws the bones
stark and bare the dead leaves
shiver. I see you and you are
no longer there.