***~~~***
In Godzona
seasons cycle in reverse,
sun sets in the East,
moons rise in the West,
a labyrinth of lakes reflect
stands of beech, poplar, pine;
ladies alighting in a line,*
men in red feather cloaks
swing from ropes in giant trees,
feast on roots, shoots, leaves,
birds burrow on the ground,
lay eggs with a hairy husk,
chorus into song at dusk,
Time turns inside out,
days darker than night
reveal a chaos of delight.
(* refers to the painting Ladies of the Lake by Rob Gonsalves)
***~~~***
Birdsong
Cu.coo…
Cu.coo…
Coo…coo…coo..?
Coo…Coo…
Coo…Coocoo…
Coo…cu.coo.coo…
Coo.cucoo…coo…coo…
Coo…coo…
Coo…coo…
Ccoooooo…
***~~~***
Festival Season
The two-toned bird offered
to share her hole
in the old volcano cone.
When the rest arrived
I thought I’d wandered
into paradise.
Flight feathers strewn
like rainbow confetti,
littered the blue lagoon.
Six weeks of bliss,
then a shrill call, COO!
she erupted with the flock.
***~~~***
Night Walker
At first I revelled
in the extra space,
rejigged the pattern
of night and day,
watched stars track
across the skies,
took long dust baths
and afternoon naps,
fished for hours
by the land-locked lake,
caught my reflection
in the Hunter moon,
wished I could call you back,
cu.coo…cu.coo…cu.coo…
***~~~***
Deluge
Water gushes from all sides,
thunders through gorges
and gulleys,
transforms rivers
into torrents of teal,
turquoise and lime,
crashes ashore
in a swirl of wood,
stone and bone.
***~~~***
Alien Rock
A lime fossil from the seabed,
A pineapple crossed with a grapefruit,
A lava bomb stitched like a medicine ball,
A turtle shell studded with barnacles,
A Jurassic Jerusalem artichoke,
A fallen star stranded on shore,
A rolled up skin scored by time,
A petrified basked washed from a wreck,
A stone heart ripped from a giant’s chest,
A Faberge egg encrusted with kelp.
***~~~***
Cracked
Startled by a crack
I stood transfixed
as sulphur hissed
and ochre oozed
through a thousand splits
in your mottled shell,
swallowed the truth
as you emerged
in the scaly coat
of a harlequin.
***~~~***
Rainbow Serpent
Iris the name I chose,
goddess of joy and light,
brought you fruit and nuts
until you took to fish,
watched you twist and turn
through the briny pools,
realised the risk
of fluttering around,
could not bear to part -
then you sloughed a skin,
coughed up sparks of flame.
I knew the hour had come
for me to move away.
***~~~***
Fly Away Home
I was building a new hide
when you plucked me from behind
spiralled up into the starlit sky,
veered by the dark of the moon,
picked up the smell of burning coal,
zigzagged with the plume.
As day dawned I recognised
the rise and fall of old slag heaps,
white-washed cottages, patchwork fields,
was stunned when you dropped me
in the place I once called home,
left to find family of your own.
***~~~***
Address Unknown
I should have been alerted
when the doorbell played
a different tune.
The stranger said you moved,
some time ago,
left no forwarding address,
I reeled into freefall,
stuttered cucucu,
coocoocoo, cucucu.
***~~~***
Into the Pit
My legs cramped,
guts churned,
ribs ached,
heart burned,
teeth clenched,
eyes blurred,
ears buzzed,
head pulsed,
soul drained
into the pit.
***~~~***
Confined
My life has shrunk
into the confines
of an ensuite room.
Locked into celibacy
and silence, I withdraw
into watercolour,
blank out the sound
of voices raised
in this cuckoo’s nest,
express myself
in a gallery of insects,
trees and wildflowers,
wait for a rook,
raven or crow
to call me home.
***~~~***
In the Stillness
Held in suspense,
like a river between tides,
I scry the depths,
reflect a familiar face,
turned back to front
and upside down,
absorb the image,
before it fades
with the new flow.
***~~~***
Finding Sanctuary
The Watchers may have gone
but there is still one
who looks through the sockets
of the dragon’s death mask,
tarnished by the elements
and the passage of time.
I cross the threshold
into a twilight world
where muted voices echo
off sandstone pillars;
babels of fears,
hopes and dreams.
Senses amplified by the toll
of the sanctuary bell,
I wander vaulted corridors~
frequented by souls
as unburnished
as the brass door knocker.
Alone in the cloisters,
laid out on the site
of the old white church
I find peace and respite.
***~~~***
Porte Disparu
No relic, no heirloom,
no record of birth,
no urn, no grave,
or memorial,
one red feather,
the single trace
of a life long-lived,
lost in the Silence.
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