The Dancers
To a clearingin the foyerat the Galleryof Art,and a chatterof spectatorswaiting for the showto start,five young men, black,naked, dottedwhite, and daddy-long-legs thinout of fortythousand years ofdreamtime came lightfoot-ing in.Ssss! hissed the dancers from Arnhem Land.And a primalstillness fell aswhen arose the earl-iest sun,each dancer anemblem paintedon rockface, or scoredin stone.With an unpre-meditatedseemliness they tookthe floor,staring sightlessas is lightningthrough a bronze by Hen-ry Moore.Ssss! hissed the dancers from Arnhem Land.To an insectbuzz of music,snap of sticks, high nas-al whine,touched with brown andsaffron ochre,and their teeth a yell-ow shine,five young men camebarefoot, dancing--the sun halting inits climb--effortlessly,forwards, backwardsthrough the littoralof time.Ssss! hissed the dancers from Arnhem Land.Beaded and infeather braceletsto the hoarse-voiced didge-ridoo,they were emuand echidna,swirling snake and kang-aroo;razoring this andthat way sharply,swifter than the bush-fire flame,each a demon,each an angel,each a god withouta name.Ssss! hissed the dancers from Arnhem Land.Suddenly thedance was ended,clocks took back the Mel-bourne day,and it was asif the dancersmelted like a mistaway.In the restaur-ant I saw them,serious, and at smil-ing ease:five young men inT-shirts, jeans, withpavlovas and fivewhite teas.Ssss! hissed the dancers from Arnhem Land.