13.x.20
294
a tumble through the ash
ekphrastic for Luke Sciberras’ ‘White Christmas’, Bell, NSW (2019)
and follow not to name the colours
but say the charcoal under
and tell away the grey
that’s time
and the sky in its folds
scratch till track
take these bones
lines of green gone
and further still
feed on what’s yet to grow
where no hand
but the eye in trust
there is a this way up
still dizzy
a breath until the breeze
will rain fall to this?
it’s as if there were the one day
not a thing alive
but all are yet to wake
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