Star-flowers sidling through darkness
in the guise of hedge
prompt me to retrace my steps:
a lone cypress, a sentinel.
I recognise the shape its shadow
casts, the inky silhouette.
Suspended at its side
a gleaming lure,
a lemon-wedge of moon.
In aquifers where meaning
is encrypted, memory stirs;
like octopus about to take the lure
the tentacles unfurl,
so that I hear the sea and sight the port:
masts pared to elegance and strength
tilt lances at the sky,
flares glancing off the painted hulls
as squid-fishers make ready,
unlocking every starving sense
I'd wilfully repressed,
marrying mnemonic brine
and jasmine in a breath.
Mnemonic
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108021502023
Свидетельство о публикации №108021502023
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