It feels as if we are introducing you to Autumn. Slowly, and with care. Small hands, fingers fisted before bursting open like early fireworks. Breath-taking. Quite literally. Little face, big eyes, shadows for brows. All of these things change as the season steps in, lifts you from your bassinet, pinks your cheeks.
Look– at how much you’ve grown, at how the leaves have turned so quickly, these layers forming one over the other. Breath, and breeze, across your vocal chords. Outside a storm is cooing through the branches, changing notes, the strength of it lifting tree roots from their standings. When the winds settle, we sweep all the chaos beneath carpets, smooth the lines till they’re crisp. Pat you stomach. Tell you, that this fire is good.
The sky is beaten grey,
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the metallic sheen of swords
unsheathed and waiting.
The size of a lemon,
which reminds me of a fruit tree,
leaves buttered up and green
as the unripe citruses berried in-between…
and this is much the same,
this slow uncurling as you ripen
my own belly thickening till I peel
off my layers,
test the softness around my middle,
squeeze the fruit flesh.
You feel all this apparently,
spin like a top, end over end
become a flicker in a whirlwind.
Still hidden by your smallness,
little lemon pip blooming.
I’ve missed quite a few DVersePoets night over the past couple of months, and that’s mainly been because I’ve spent all my free time napping. The little Gremlin above is due this summer, and I’ve had all the fun of pregnancy sickness to content with, so my writing took a bit of a hit. My husband and I are very excited to welcome our little human into the world, and I thought what better way to tell my poet friends the news, than with a poem for the Open Link Night!
Bark bitten calves hooked in place,
perfect ‘v’ ankle to hip.
Silly stretch of bare belly
concave as you swing.
Cheeks round with storm winds.
Filled sails of a fallen shirt.
Billowed until breathless and grinning
stained knees knocked loose
there’s still another turn.
I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.
There are useful things inside wolves and shadows,
with moonlight in the blades
to show the way back out
from the darker places in the bellies of beasts
that perhaps may not be beasts
once they’ve be carved into smaller, scurrier things
that run rather from, rather than swallow
all the things that shine.