Selected poems
Hours
Matins
the brush of wet grass
under faint stars
Lauds
one golden eye
on a pink petal
fluttering
Prime
the crescendo and diminuendo
of cars on a freeway
Terce
two ravens —
discussing kindness
Sext
spilt stories shared —
a hashtag
None
one black feather in the corvid's beak
Vespers
shadow of a pen —
these words in ink
Compline
how can I hear you above the ringing in my ears?
Nunc dimittis
Cast the wonder of who we are —
an old man, a child, their story —
as if held over a font. The aged words
pour like fortune over the child's head
precipitating ends. A choir sings
and southern crux moves across a sky
above suburban light displays
and lorikeets that thrive in yards.
A long year of doing, and time for
blessing now. Nights sift
the wind like brushes on scraggy
callistemon. The camellia's gloss
cups and bleaches light. The woman
hears of sorrow for the child. Earth
is not at peace. Each angel recollects —
solemn with pathos for the whole.
The interval
for Judith Rodriguez
offers an impressionist tableau
of whites and greys, pale
peach, florid but muted
reds, light reflected
from glassware, the orange
ochres of upholstery blended
into privilege (a little shabby —
dress is not utmost) of an ear
shared across a variousness
of skill and education (an aging
Jesuit is introducing his niece
to the former politician ex-
quiz whiz and his companion,
a writer of grief wanders by
with her actor daughter). Tending
the soul excludes without
intention, without law. (No ticket's
fine print says all cannot
share this joy.) The signal
sounds again. I drain
the pinot grigio from the glass,
return it to the bar, go in
to hear the second half.
Anne Elvey's recent poetry publications include Kin and This Flesh That You Know and White on White. Anne is managing editor of Plumwood Mountain and chief editor with Melbourne Poets Union.