AUSTRALIA

bones@submlime.com.au

I AM A PRISONER IN MY MIND

My lips stained tobacco yellow,
canyoned with age,
press themselves together
and refuse to utter a word;
not one of the throng choking me,
piling up in my throat will do,
and my stubborn yellow lips
trap me, bar me in.
I am a prisoner in my mind.

DREAMED

From the front it was an ancient crumbling house,
rose coloured, with shutters hanging skewed
and tin roof failing beneath gravity's weight.

Inside were twin bath tubs of green marble
lying side by side and clean in soiled surrounds.
They echoed of some silent marriage long dead.

The rooms rambled into each other, broad and crooked,
falling suddenly into unexpected corners,
ending in faded carpets and cluttered with refuse.

Three horses stood in the yard, shaded by trees.
Lazy clouds of flies followed as they wandered,
one by one in line, down to a brown sluggish river.

The musty smells of decrepit wood and paper
hung on the verandah like curtains of mildew,
closing me in, closing foul traffic noise out.

WATCHING THE SKY

Watching the sky,
and listening to the passing and passing of cars,
the passing of feet, and of time in the sand on the beach,
I wonder how slight I am.

My weight cycles with the moon,
and the colour of my hair with sun's season.
That these things should change me is no surprise.
But do my nights of drinking worry the sun's hair grey
and slow the night moon in her orbit?

CONDOLENCE

Dead wishes from fair-weather friends
spill smirking from lips lit grey-green.
Empty peck-kisses from enemies
(tinged bronze with gloat)
strike home more sharply than arrows;
and in this open cart
my soul will watch a little longer yet....

GANYMEDE & CALLISTO
(Parts I, II & III)

Part I

Brilliance; further, beyond - just darkness.

White radiance, cool rays mirrored by far moons.
Ganymede's hidden sea
encrusted with flourished light and cadence
catches Callisto's millennial eye.
She sighs.

Brilliance; and further, daydreamings of delight.

Darkness; a cushioned bed of sleep,
restlessness, desire.
A sea that ebbs and flows,
flows and ebbs with water's weight.
He sighs.

Brilliance, further what can there be but despondence?

Part II

Brilliance, mingled with wild speed of passion's taste.

Crimson light; envied
by cold Charon cluttered with coins.
Ganymede's surface sea of ice
an arabesque of unrequited love
almost touched by Callisto's
urgent fingers of cerise.
Almost. She sights.

Brilliance, and further daydreamings of delight.

Darkness; a cushioned bed of sleep,
rest, with tepid dreams of space and starlight,
ballooning, stretching distance to pain,
and craters to open wounds.
In slumber he whimpers... sighs.

Brilliance, further what can there be but despondence?

Part III

Stillness; as the shape of a skull in lover's hand
embroidered with a hemisphere of stars.

Crimon rising,
and blue Ganymede gasps;
surging tide rises to sea surface
cracks ice... ah
asunder
an arabesque of love.
Callisto? She sighs.

Movement; and passion's quick delight.

Darkness; a cushioned bed of sleep,
spent weary to drowning,
balooning, stretching,
prone to craters.
In slumber, he whimpers.... She sighs.

Further, what can there be but despondence?

© All Copyright 2001, Averil Bones.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.