Under the pepperina tree
he reaches out with desperate
hands, brings me a fist
of leaves and whips my cheek
to make himself known. The wind
is harassing us: a fierce heat
in her heart. I lift my face to
the sting, to a sky bankrupt
of clouds. There is nothing
to prepare you for the weight
that settles in your chest
the savage promise of this embrace.
Tag Archives: new poem – The First 30
The First 30: a postscript
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 30
It is hard to believe that Day 30 is here… it has been the most amazing time in our lives and writing these poems has been a real thrill, so thank you to everyone who has been following. There will no doubt be many more poems inspired by T.H.E. Nunn, but for now, let’s add the finishing touches to this series:
Day 30
fireworks that burst
the dark sky, show
their colours so briefly
our love is more
like Sirius, embering —
fierce until the end
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 29
let the postman
pass us by —
everyday, look deep
into the mailbox
of his eyes
there is a love
letter, written and
waiting for you
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 28
there are nights
sleep comes saying:
there is no room
in your body for me
to rest, no time
for my dreams to sit
at the heart’s table
and write poems
and because there is
no sleep, the heart
quickens, waiting for
the white fist of light
at its flank to clench
into another day
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 27
you sing all your questions
to the birds —
dove, sparrow, mynah, crow —
eyes held open against
afternoon sleep
I name each one, as your call
becomes fuller, disturbs
the flow of air
the crow does not blink
head cocked, he unspools
black notes
climbing and falling
climbing and falling
the conversation is relentless
no one is letting go
without an answer
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 26
like sleep’s first
waking thought he
uncurls, our warm
unity, inseparable
he is a bird, begging
for mealworm
the nucleus of this
heart-thrummed heaven
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 25
his hungry mouth gone slack
the batter of syllables ceases
sleep beats him
like a brother, leaving
his body to bob
and shudder, as we turn
the pram, half-
a-suburb from home
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 24
whenever my father went to tell
me about Mawson and how he
kept walking after losing
the soles of his feet, I’d fall
further behind, languish in the small
universe of every rock pool
all I wanted was to find the perfect
shell, to turn one last stone
what does a seven-year-old
boy know of time anyway?
I remember this as I kiss
you and rush out the door
twenty-four days have passed
I tell myself, go slow
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 23
the song:
he puts all his
voice into
one repeated
song
the variations and
subtleties
he manages to
inflect
I’m often too
frantic to catch
it’s one song
a siren from which
all possibilities
evolve
hungry
tired, wet
dirty, in need
of affection
forget the words
it’s simple
all in
the song
Filed under poetry
The First 30: Day 22
in the nursery, where light purrs
in the mouth of a cat-
shaped lamp, he is sleeping
we drink tea silently and forget
to turn the page, happy to watch
each twitch of lip, the sound
of life being made
each note, so pure:
slow flutter of eyelashes, the fontanels
thoughtful pulse
in the wet of our eyes
as he wakes
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