The Quoll - a post-marsupial melodrama
Bing / Santospirito
9 - 23 February, 2022
I had the most beautiful dream Mummy.
We weren’t there at all, not you or me or anyone.
I don’t think anyone even remembered us.
But there the loveliest creature there with white spots in her fur.
It was this island, only different.
It was like it had been sad for so long that it had forgotten why.
There was no trees, just lichens.
Everything else was dusty and grey.
Actually there was trees …
but most of them were burnt.
There were others like the Quoll Mummy.
She didn’t like them all.
The Quoll through the Echidna was weird.
The Wombat through the Quoll was a bully.
He would try to go back down to the valleys but she would yell
“The cliffs are just not the best way down”
Eventually he left.
In the dust there was nothing to eat.
In this burnt-out dream there was no reason to go anywhere anymore.
There was no one left.
No people, no marsupials, no monotremes