Mimi
Their bodies so thin, a high wind might break them,
the spindly spirits of West Arnhem rest in crevices.
Best to warn them if you’re near. Tread on one
or harm a baby wallaby, expect an aggressive attack.
But if you are kind, you will recoup kindness.
Dance, sing and hunt. The Mimi love chasing emus
their narrow voices, stretching over the plains,
the melody of a zebra finch. Our ancient teachers
live in a plain between dimensions. Bring fire.
Stick figures etched in the red rock too high to reach
are modern mysteries. But for us, just portraits of fairies.
Aiko Harman
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