Academic journal article Antipodes

Dawn Wind on the Islands

Academic journal article Antipodes

Dawn Wind on the Islands

Article excerpt

The needle of dawn has drugged them, life and death,

Stiff and archaic, mouldering into one,

Voiceless, having no mission and no path,

Lolling under a heavy head-dress. When

The puppet sun jerks up, there will be no

Convergences: the dead will be the dead,

Twirled in a yellow eddy, frail and dull.

These hands of mine that might be stone and snow,

Half bone, half silent fallen dust, will shed

Decay, and flower with the first glittering gull.

Dawn on the wide deserted airstrip swells

And the wind shifts and gains and gathers. If

The point of daylight balances, controls

The sense of life-and-death as on a gaff,

Then dripping it will come, and living- show

From this sea's knotted blue that has no name

While the moon dies on its branches like a leaf;

As coral's whitening belly it will flow

Inland before the sunrise, hang with flame

The tilted freighter breaking on the reef. …

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