A Ghost in the Throat

The back of all certainty 
is gifted in a slice 
            the cut of another’s life
           and we’re spun like leaves
               that faun and flutter around the wheels of a car

All relationships birth a string
         tenuous or riddled
               or armed like anemones 
          and the snip
                   catches at throat’s every rib

I wake 
to a bald purple sky
         importuned by star strike
  and glean nothing

and I wonder
            what of our bodies
      their lemon-juice hieroglyphs
               defying our best candles
      such contradictory organs
swamped with beauty, science and pain 

At six twenty seven
      the eucalypt glows blue

night’s awning
     unpinned from each corner,
           and the sun’s slow blink -
      its devout gaze set adrift

             I see a brolga
                              ready to dance
                 the exposed neck
          outstretched wings form a heart
and then I glide
           back beneath plated leaves
                       the embroidery of browns

Written to Go Dog Go: Brave & Reckless Creativity Prompt Challenge Week 3

7 thoughts on “A Ghost in the Throat

    1. Thanks, K. Brolga are a kind of bird famous for their dancing. But I just realised the last stanza may confuse them with another bird who walks on lily pads. A jacana? I will have to check my facts.


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