spring wrapped in shrouds feel the desperation
of my punches in our daydreams*
speak to us without
mouths bruised harmonies
your soft sounds reach but do not enter me yet
you are a frozen river & i a boat*
ice-locked & vengeful
spewing steam
the moment your word becomes a bird & takes flight
even rumour turns on like the truth*
painted on a window
thunder pines
spring you are a curl of smoke blown diagonally
& a forest shot through with vapour trails*
or bullets that tremble
sunlight hammers
a thousand restless revolutions in your wings
when i sleep a child is born*
not knowing how to run
not in my dream
& you'll come again soon like a rain of stones
against the doorway of my love*
ajar but your sweetness &
light!—I cry out!
Forthcoming in Southerly (3/2004)
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