Intimation of Mortality

Mosquitoes at the wire,
the crow presses the heart,
telling us it knows CPI
as the heart shuts down on a whim;
cyclonic activity, the winding eye
of a tropical low, is reaching
down into the paddocks
recently bereft of wheat
the last breath gone we can sense
sweat gathering and flowing
like mercury, another communications
tower erected on the mountain,
on the far face, blocking
our way to the other side.