I put on the coat of a great whale
stretching a shipwrecked gaze
around my sinking weight
heaving and swelling
on a bed of sandy almond seeds
[I mark the journey's end
with a cross
for others to map the place
where my wings have failed]
I lift my fin-wing
flick stony grains
on to the mass
that holds me down
I suck on a shallow draught
of sea-thin air
roll to one side
the dredge of water beneath
folding me tight to the sand
I watch the sky
for signs of rain
to weave fresh tides
[pulling / slacken-ing/
/…
s-lacken-ing]
shell against emptied shell
I cross my ankles
wriggle my toes in the warm stone-grain
flick the little mountains
on to my huge body
I breathe dEEply and roll to my other side
my great arms folded
to press my entrails inside out
Glinting upon the water was
a huge library
stacked
with books square and rectangular
some corpulent
some attenuate
with heavy covers and light
and as soon as the vision
made itself known
it became air borne
above the licking ocean
and
vanished
And I found I could remember
the names of grasses
with their earth lines sucking the soil
reddening like redemptive earth
like the renewing earth
folding my body
between dimensions
preserving the first smells of
beans, stewed red beans,
the serving spoon smelling of fresh thyme
tasting what my lips tasted
in the steaming juice
of thyme on my moistened finger tips
mingling life spray
life spawn
slipping over my tongues
finding the sweetness of desire
within the buds
that made them common
made them one
in desire
desire
desire
Published in Southern Review (Australia).
