Academic journal article Hecate


Academic journal article Hecate


Article excerpt

Blackheath, 2001

And there it is, the water thundering

Into the bucket propped up sideways

To catch all the splash splashed out from the tap

A column of aqua vita hitting

The bottom of brown plastic. The bucket

Spackled with grit, old paint, could be my life-

Not an empty vessel, but anxious

And unsteady, too easily pointing

Away from the wobbled tilt at fast gush.

The running over the cup part is missed.

Self forgotten, forgetting eyes skim the

Fences and downpipes to catch, not water,

But glimpses of lorikeets, finches, wrens

And honeybirds with helicopter wings.

Distractions. Bring out the shovel.

Slide it under rotting leaves, scrape cement

And make a hillock of composted mulch

For cyclamens to poke mottled leaves through.

Better their pink blooms than staking out my

Heart bleeding red all over the pinned sleeve

And, self-forgetting, dreaming, dreaming of

Joy in trusting eyes that loved entirely

A prayer of bodies tumbling in your bed,

Soft breathing: Am I allowed this love?

Light. Bright. Garden the beginning again.

Spring uncertain, blue sky cloudless above

Trees murmuring. Whispering, listening

Leaves calmly mirror the sun's glint.

A dog yaps. A cat stalks birds that flit

For insects, squirming worms spied in sandy

Shallow soil crumbling under lavender.

And the cat stalks, too belly-full to leap

Where the spider, gold dot in furled grey green,

Steadily braces legs to jump as if

The stippled moment beams white silence at

My finger wandering near its frail head. …

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