* * * * * *
Sightseeing
She showed him the wind's direction in her hair
the interior of her forty years
with fibres of joy worn thin
by sediments of pills.
She revealed Jesus had not risen yet,
but miracles were expected.
He believed her.
He showed her tricks to find the way home;
he had forgotten the address, but once he'd hung
a hat on his father's frozen foot,
and somehow youth's chapters stuck
on his mother's torn dresses, on her hands
open for the manna of death.
She believed him.
One evening they lay a map of New York on the table,
fingers skim the Statue of Liberty,
his hand covers hers -
a saucer shapes a hole on Manhattan, cuts
streets and avenues.
With bodies as their only direction, they can lie
together, think they are proceeding.
For a while they believe it.
* * * *
That Night it Rained Forever
The firemen must be asleep, hands on bellies,
helmets blaze against a falling sky; birds
hook sunset on branches, beep a warning
and I watch through the open window.
I see you comb her hair, pour water over her neck,
shoulders; a bar of soap falls from your hands,
sinks in bubbles, water and laughter. Liquid skin,
slippery moon; all slides from hands,
broken rhythm of breaths, foam turrets
hair- grooves : The crack of light,
a splash in the tub, the roar of heavy rain.
Stones roll down in mud, sandals
slip off feet, break twigs. A frog leaps
on soaked grass, drowned constellations.
* * * *
Reflection
Sit here, opposite me.
I'll look at the slope
of your shoulder, imagine
I am the shirt that makes
you sweat in the cold.
Let me watch an underworld
moon stand stuck above your head.
A moon with an out of tune
violin and a silverplated gun.
When the Horizon's Steel
melts, God opens his box, folds
last pieces of day in rags of blue,
hangs a crescent moon --Grown
short-sighted with age, he stumbles
on Pegasus' wings, thinks he'll have
to get up earlier to polish Spring sun,
hopes there will be more clients tomorrow.
* * * *
Applause
She undresses, takes a blue scarf
to cover her eyes, to press sun
on skin. She unfastens
nakedness among peach trees. Unbuckled
leather sandals show the form
of feet, grass blades on toes' imprints.
On a branch, her dress streams white.
Light flutters as if applauding when
the river opens, closes, coiling, coiling.
* * * *
Obliteration ( After LI PO)
Birds play hide and seek at the horizon
till night's splinters scratch them off.
We lie together, the ocean and me,
till only his wet roar remains.
* * * *
(c) Paula Grenside, 2001