Red-Bellied Black
By Lachlan F
Published 11 September 2026
A liquid stroke of midnight
pours through the high summer grass.
No legs,
yet it travels with the grace of flowing oil.
pours through the high summer grass.
No legs,
yet it travels with the grace of flowing oil.
Its back absorbs the heat,
a spine of polished coal.
But beneath the dark,
a sudden rip of crimson—
a hidden ribbon of fire
scraping against the sun-baked clay.
a spine of polished coal.
But beneath the dark,
a sudden rip of crimson—
a hidden ribbon of fire
scraping against the sun-baked clay.
The bushland holds its breath.
The reptile tastes the heavy afternoon air
with a swift, silent flick of its tongue.
The reptile tastes the heavy afternoon air
with a swift, silent flick of its tongue.
It does not ask for permission to pass.
It simply dissolves,
a stream of ink vanishing
into the cool belly of the creek.
It simply dissolves,
a stream of ink vanishing
into the cool belly of the creek.