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ARTS AND CULTURE

Mortal touch

  • 26 July 2016
  Selected poems  

If I say

If I say there is no godI do not mean there is no

god. There is noThere is

the bound energyof the melaleuca, the light

tossed back from the undersideof the leaf, the peeled bark

of the body wheretranslation

is the impossible —insistent, necessary.

 

Maundy

quiet nowthe bread boxis empty

we have emptied itwe have eaten our fillthe box is bared

the skin embracesthe skin its outerand its inner

under the breastbonethe bass vibrates so thatthe heart's gait

is awkwardthe breath shallowsto a whisper

say nothinguntil morningwait if you can

sleep sleep nowthe arrest isimminent

 

The glance

Partway between a fingernailand a semi-circle in the western

sky the moonrises over

the glanceof wheels on the night's road.

Gas pops in the gut.The engines sign like Nike

the clear air.Give thanks.

 

 

With the same sense

that meets the keys I stroke her arm.This tactility makes the tangible seem

eternal, as if the want to writewere training me to count on time.

My mortality is misdirected thusby a capacity to touch. And when I put

my arm around her shoulders, I feelbeneath the skin the sharpness of the bone.

 

Anne Elvey is managing editor of Plumwood Mountain: An Australian Journal of Ecopoetry and Ecopoetics. Her poetry collection Kin was shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor Poetry Prize 2015. Her latest chapbook is This Flesh That You Know. Anne holds honorary appointments at Monash University and University of Divinity.