Decomposition

In paddocks cracked
and steep dam banks
beneath distorted
eaten limbs
pianos graze
on shifting dunes
of memory dust
and sunset hymns

out-of-tune
twisted twanged
broken keys
like old dogs’ teeth
they strike a chord
in this ruined scape

no chandeliers
or potraits hung
of Bach or ­­Brahms or Beethoven

their skewiff tunes ring out
across big skies and crusted scats
while old choughs
mourn the dying day
a tumbleweed opera
so perfect in decay.