Amanda Joy

Sud

Calibrated now to the height of disuse, it was once a road, this
path, lined with Roman relics and an aqueduct leading to Pont du
Gard. The air crisp with Juniper exposes my tongue to cold, distils
the taste of my furry mouth and I am held centre stage by the
forest of my own movements. This is as close as we have come to
silence, camouflaged by the stuttering of our feet getting away
from us on a steep slope. You stop and the animal inside me is
startled by your white teeth. You’re pointing through the trees,
over there, at the edge of a waterhole is Nina Cassian, on her
knees, bent over the stag, tearing the dark flesh, chewing the
gristle ear, bringing water to her lips. That hunger, washing
through like heavy rain, unlocking smells, gathering sounds, is not
mine, but I know it. A pale gravity mingles with the disappearing
sun, only then do I realise we have walked too fast and I’ve missed
things. My stomach growls to the food in your pack. Ahead is a
clearing, wet with rot and a leak of light seeping into the black
earth. It’s too late now, to ascend to the next village, with its
skinny cats, shuttered windows and stone streets as wide as voices.
I touch your mouth, a canticle of tiny cobwebs stuck to my fingers,
an edible dedication to the sticky underbelly of another past.

 

 

Ghostling

Deceptively simple
the old photo you sent
of that windblown girl

Some jagged arrangement
of cheekbones and arms

Jutting out of nine hole boots
a little comedy of red knees
pulled in close as kittens
to hide a budding chest

The shapes you gave
those grey shadows
The rash of textures
that was a makeshift bed

There again she is
cocooned in her only clothes

The pretty ghostling
whose every exposure
overlooked her age

 

 

 
AMANDA JOY

Amanda Joy is a poet, sculptor, installation artist and songwriter born in the Kimberley region of Western Australia. She currently lives, works and gardens in Fremantle and travels as often as she can. Her poetry has been published in various journals online and in print such as Cottonmouth, Up The Staircase Literary Review, Killpoet, Fragile Arts Quarterly, Black Rider Press, Another Lost Shark, Heroin Love Songs, The Toronto Quarterly, Black Listed Magazine, Speedpoets and The Best Australian Poems 2009. She has a fascination with portals and conduits and every now and then she pops out a little limited edition illustrated chapbook for those who ask nicely. A tiny, yet sincere chapbook of her poetry, Not Enough To Fold was lovingly published through Verve Bath Press early this year. A more sizeable binding of her wordage, In Hand will be released in the U.S. in April. She blogs her poetry semi regularly at her website www.littleglasspen.com and www.myspace.com/amanda_joy1970. Keeper of a dog called Love, her heart still beats like small pink feet on red earth.

7 responses to “Amanda Joy

  1. Pingback: Stylus Poetry Journal #37 – Street/Life « Another Lost Shark

  2. Wow, love this stanza especially (from Ghostling)

    Jutting out of nine hole boots
    a little comedy of red knees
    pulled in close as kittens
    to hide a budding chest

    And ‘Sud’ makes me even more desperate to travel

  3. Got in… love your work Amanda

  4. Freida

    Ghostling…wow…really like that!

  5. poetinparadise

    The imagery is so fresh you can taste it. Wow.

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