is talking about the threat posed by stray curs
to dingoes, who themselves seem not averse
to cross-breeding, and why we should give a damn.
Brushing a solar flare out of her blue
and earnest eye, one wonders, is she blind
to the analogy with her own kind?
What chance she sees it? Average-to-low.
Chances are better she swaps alleles with one
of a distinctly less brilliant aspect,
enlarged from some foreign breeding kennel;—
that is to speculate she may be prone
to aiding beings whose hungry eyes reflect
compassion they can’t understand, but smell.
The location is the Dandenong Ranges National Park, which begins a swathe of dingo country extending most of the way up Australia’s east coast. The subject of the poem is a park ranger speaking on Channel 7’s Sunrise program.