Poem for July 12
July 12, 2012 § Leave a comment
In the mornings always start with the sea
enter its glass vaults as it sways
and lifts its body towards the light
hungry for land and cliff
a fine dividing line inked
on the margins of its breviary,
blue washes on blotting paper.
But it is kind to swimmers, divers,
five-fingered stars, the salt skin of dreamers,
at noon there is something dance-like
in its movements, it
obeys a wavering
beat, febrile, restive, sifts
through edges, opens wide,
inhales the sun with grape-black mouth.
Listen for music in its depths:
the drawn-out dawn-lit stanzas
of seal song and whale call spilling,
echoing across a wide dance floor.
Go true south, press your ear to 30 feet of ice
to hear the choirs of the drowned sing.
-Eva Bourke, from piano (Dedalus Press, 2011)