In almost sung summer along street sweat
a miasma, phones, stop lights, all jangle
there’s an odour out of soft places
armpits of buildings, city groin
I walk across lines at my usual angle
We’re all looking towards the wind
where it was last night, and the traces
of that flute that has returned
a vernal breath, the drum clouds
the not quite moon-shaved spread
and a lamplight blue shroud
so each garden waved up to the window
as I laid out my eyes under cover
air knocking on a strange dawn story
love and buildings in an unidentified country
Now at a sultry corner, slippy flagstones
I relieve my breath of a second’s water
after summer rain, the birds again
greener than ordinary
and urgent, that crow calls home, spent
or thrashed in showers seeming effortless
From the core minerals are drawn away
they drip from me, my precious metals
sucked into cloth and the stream that passes
around my crossing, my opening of the glass
door, last night’s spit and perfume smells invisible
as everything is suspension, there
as each drop has no end.
Jill Jones
Sydney 15 March
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Jill Jones
Latest books:
Broken/Open. Available from Salt Publishing
http://www.saltpublishing.com/books/smp/1844710416.htm
Where the Sea Burns. Wagtail Series. Picaro Press
PO Box 853, Warners Bay, NSW, 2282. [log in to unmask]
Struggle and radiance: ten commentaries (Wild Honey Press)
http://www.wildhoneypress.com
web site: http://homepages.ihug.com.au/~jpjones
blog1: Ruby Street http://rubystreet.blogspot.com/
blog2: Latitudes http://itudes.blogspot.com/
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