these arms might reach out
in love or in trouble
and you might answer them
or you may not
face down in the clay
or among the detritus
of a ruined house
the naked arms outfling
towards nothing
as the woman who
arches in delight
and flings her empty arms
towards the brighter angel
that scorches her
life in its ripeness
or its barren edge,
everything or nothing:
it is the eyes watching
that complete the gesture
how tell a bruise coldly
from the abashed lover
or the erased brute?
one is warm and throbbing still
and the other rots.
Alison Croggon
Blog: http://theatrenotes.blogspot.com
Editor, Masthead: http://masthead.net.au
Home page: http://alisoncroggon.com
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