Leaving Australia

From the air the land looks like a work of Aboriginal art.
A coded picture made of muted, arid colour, linguistic
Tracks, persistent green. Perhaps the artists place their easels in the sky.

The modern aboriginal art found in the Adelaide galleries
Seems more studied than their elders’ work at the Yourambulla caves.
The marks there looked, to my eyes, like a subway scrawl. Although the
Notice informed that one mark represented a kangaroo track,
Another an initiation rite, they were more like something
From another world, part language, part art, beyond the reach of our
Culture’s definition. A different mode of things being seen.

On the plane there are gangs of Chinese men. They dress
Casually. They all know each other. They read papers
Full of bold calligraphy and pictures which look
To my eyes, like exotic teenage magazines.