Monday, September 7, 2009

Winged Things

Once you give something
wings you have to treat it differently
because the bones are hollow-
just the heat coming off your neck up close
might cause an updraft that could send it higher
than the sound of our breathing, past
the fist-shaped clouds and their drizzle
past the pelicans and stars

There was an address written on her palm
that’s been smeared by yours
She can’t remember giving you the keys
You can’t remember locking up the house

Every other word here is the possessive you both lack
each day is its’ consequence

You’re driving through the night with her head
on your thigh
her white hand on your knee
into the pink morning where the world is all
keys and keyholes
where there’s roadhouse coffee and a quiet
place near a dry creek bed to do things
with mouths other than speaking

Billions of eyes have slept through this
With no sleep to wake from
yours can’t see past it
It’s been days since she’s taken the steering wheel
She says movement is her only peace
opening the window

You draw a concentric circle around her
to see what gathers outside
Sweep up your tracks behind you
keep them in the glove box with the maps

At the appearance of heat puddles
ahead in the middle of the road
you sing her bridges of outlined plans
knowing she is calmed
by the weight of your intention

You use fuzzy words
because the clear ones are all being used
back at the supermarket and the primary school
and you know her ears are tired of them

Over and over you look at each other
hardly recognising yourselves in this heat
You stop the car, lean over to kiss her in the centre
of her chest, she untangles her sunburnt legs
from the dashboard and smiles a distance
you can’t turn back from

A billion birds perched in the clouds look down
and are blinded by the glare from the windscreen

18 comments:

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Yet another terrific poem .. and I enjoy noticing the background behind the action, how it couldn't be anywhere but Australia. I know that road....

Amanda Joy said...

I know you know that road Rosemary.
So good to see you in here where its nice and quiet.. Thank you

Jé Maverick said...

An albatross once told me how very much he disliked windscreen glare. I understand why now.

rooster peabody said...

Wonderful!!! Thank you.

Miss Jane said...

Oh, Amanda, Oh!
I'm almost glad you couldn't sleep.
This is wonderful. I feel the light, the heat, the circles.
You're really stretching out into bewitching storytelling.

alaskanott said...

wow, you could feel the regret as its happening. i really liked the keys and keyholes line. and roadhouse coffee. damn, good poem

Ben Harrell said...

I'm new to your work and I must say that I'm glad I stopped by. Thank you.

Lyrically speaking said...

wow quite impressive

Anonymous said...

Truely a master piece, I enjoyed reading...

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Write and Earn a Living said...

Wonderful blog you have here. Enjoyable reading!

bonequinhoda bic said...

I´ve always loves winge things.I find geat inspiritaon with the birds !
So, thankyou for this !
Have a geat 2010.

JFO said...

Very interesting, I would love to go "where the world is all keys and keyholes," thank you for taking me there.

Collins said...

Another great work of art, keep up the great work.

Thank you for sharing.

rooster peabody said...

I love this.

OneTwoThreeFold said...

I have stumbled though blogs, and have come up at yours. It is wonderful. i love your words. I cant stop reading your work.

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Disconnected said...

really like this. Just found your blog, great works.