[Editor: This poem by Rex Ingamells was published in Gumtops (1935).]
The Bandicoot-God
The Bandicoot-god,
In sacred deeps
’Neath the plain’s thick crust,
Through all time sleeps.
Undreaming he lies
Long nights and days,
From stars far-hidden
And the sun’s hot blaze.
Yet each time’s night,
Since even the first,
His armpits have swollen,
His navel has burst.
The bandicoots come up
Out of him,
Up to the wide night,
Cool and dim.
The dry clay cracks
Beneath the moon
Or the clear-eyed stars,
And soon — ah! soon,
The bandicoots scamper
About and about,
Each with sharp eyes
And crinkling snout,
While the Bandicoot-god
Lies deep — lies deep,
In his unwaking
Dreamless sleep.
Source:
Rex Ingamells. Gumtops, F. W. Preece & Sons, Adelaide, 1935, pages 17-18
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