– 54 –

The Virgin on the Hill

I remember the virgin on the hill
leading the way for my sore eyes
and my sorest heart, back to you
and the tricky sorrows of love we'd
once captured so well.

With mercy I said yesterday that
I didn't know where you were now,
though I looked for you in the field
of yellow weeds with my feet sunk
in the old marks of lawn bowls.

I looked up for the virgin, the clouds,
the evening star, and saw only
kurrajongs which I think are much
like tuis because they are black birds
and bigger than sparrows.

– 55 –

A Poem About Us

Your concern concerns me
and I wish I could put down the pen
and say I'm afraid,
forgive me if cold homescapes attract
and repel me, sometimes, your cold
hands are hold enough
I think
as we lie looking at unmarked postcards
from Malta like it was heaven
that we are spirits anchored,
rocking together, apart, together.

Tripper

You said, to see the shadows of
bees landing on your hair
the wisteria needed to be in full bloom,
and sitting in the right chair by
the white wall essential.
I assume your self must be still,
and the wind peaceful for each one
to securely practice descent
and encounter the broken hearts
and iron wills that would usually
keep tourists away.

– 56 –

With Love from Your Friend Emily

All the angels look out to sea
while Jesus pleads with a broken headstone
and a drive slow sign, but is he more
magnificent in death, the living will wonder,
as I find friends in this loud city's dead.

You used to tell me
‘nana loves you dear’, as every nana should,
but loving from the dead is such
a different thing don't you think,
now that you really know.

You see, today I sit among marble
angels and think I am higher than I ever was,
but highs are often lows of somewhere
else you once said, so I tell myself the
angels keep you down as the earth keeps me up.