We lie on the grass, in a sphere of stars
shrouded by the fabric of night
in liminal space suspended by heat
falling mercurial away from the sun.
Three sisters’ limbs dance entwined;
weedy minarets, reaching like tendrils
toward the southern cross,
flickering beyond our finger tips.
We are lunatic kids—moonstruck
skinny silhouettes, wild from the sugars
of plumped apricots; skin reddened
and poached on sandy beaches.
Our luminous playhouse
is charged with giggle,
leaf crackle and call of birds—
night airs played on timeless lutes.
We thrill in unison with bold
ideas and fierce intent, affection
flowing through our pert silliness,
its purpose played on our green needled stage.
Our mother’s gaze steals across the window sill.
Her affection shivers in heat’s shadow,
and rejoins to the call of our wish
to stay, another while.
Maggie Slattery
Adelaide, South Australia
maggieslattery@gmail.com
No comments:
Post a Comment