i have it in my face
Kristiva's Black Sun.
It smouldered in June, July.
In August breaking through to pit my heart,
to centre skew September,
to blow away any gift of spring,
if there was any to begin?
Some pretence is authentic
in a show of windy flowers.
But not with friends.
My friend Charlotte reminded me
of the concentrated spread,
guidance in the shade, a reprieve
- the thin veil -
sometimes so face tight
in temples. Cohen’s light
Asking for cracks
"Hold on for October"
Charlotte said,
“They are here our loved ones.”
All last week
Max yelled "Great Grandma, Great
Grandma"
as i upped my dose
he clapped "Great
Grandma” in joy.
My friend Claire asked Max what is said?
Max with one word
held his autistic gaze on her,
"poetry"
- a question? a message? a request? -
She said he had a hand on the book
of Melancholia.
Claire went on to read to him.
Her recitation behind the spring sun chant
"Great Grandma, Great
Grandma."
I think of Jean in his light
lifted
i return to poetry.
It’s been a long time.
And I don’t care if it’s bad.
It feels good.
i write now on my white couch,
door open, a black moth
flies into the house.
i am struck by its liveliness.
A dance above Max’s song.
He stops, the moth stills.
meeting my eyes, Max commands,
"Show mummy your worksheets!"
12/12 correct!
Who sang?
Tick.
20/20 correct!
What Animal at sea?
Tick.
7/7 correct!
i spy ---------------
tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.
"Show Mummy your worksheets!”
He chants
"Show Mummy your worksheets!"
Borderline
Dolphin
With my little eye
i hear
Great Grandma, Great
Grandma
i write
Black sun borrowed and bathed
October begins
Category: narrative poetry
in collaboration with Max
First published in Southerly Literary Journal 76.2, November 2016
- noise, advice, conversation and a song under water were not submitted to Southerly.
- a song under water was exhibited along with audio version at the George Paton Gallery, 2017
all audio versions found here
on turquoise ground
rooftops are flag forced
revolution red
risking reprisals
yellow stars are ripped
on the city outskirts
in homage to a stolen lama
a Shigaste restaurateur
pull curtains
over Beijing’s chosen Panchen
old man whispers of a secret
picture of Dalai
in the capital
binoculars pore over prostrations
and Buddha’s blessings are molested
at temple gate checkpoints
machine gun operators
operating their lungs
over chanting nomads
om mani padma hung
clockwise hum plaited
into hair of pilgrims
a Tibetan grandmother
holding my arm
guiding me to spin
the prayer wheel
in the base of my belly
in my neck
behind my eyes
in my right breast
melted butter
and sage fired
Jokhang air
a ticket home
one way permeability
all Tibetan passports
were confiscated in 2012
When I read this work out loud, I feel like I’m naked on a coat hanger … this is a difficult piece for me, yet one that I am most proud of. In 2012 my poetry mentor Claire Gaskin prompted the class to express 10 years of life in three word sentences. Instantly I was reminded of my son’s prosody of speech. I felt like I’d finally found the way to express our story.
The work was first published in Southerly’s Long Paddock and can be found here. Max in Three Words has also been performed as a monologue by the Ruby Theatre Company.
Like other work I have written in collaboration with Max, I believe the piece is more powerful when heard.
Out back rest stop
he waits in the car
the engine on
Banksia
bleeding
from my centre
He takes our photo
the horizon
is crooked
what a time we’ve had
the piano playing
as the bass strummed
the yelling neighbours
Louder Later Longer
the red wine sipping
pink teeth
stained lips
the fish that caught you
baking the oven
what a time we’ll have
when finally
the kiss allows to lips
and my bed
sweats into your pores
the fish eating us alive
writhing in its skin as
blue eyes are thrown back in
what a time I’m having
in a pond drenched
with music and rose
my body filling my head
with hands
senses torturing
a repetitive song
longing grasping itself
while trying to shake
salt into the flesh of dinner
what a time I’ve had
the wine pouring itself
from one cup
into one mouth
the bed warming itself
on one side
To see a satirical song dedicated to Tony’s Abbott’s knighting of Prince Phillip, press here
File photo dated 06/06/14 of the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Philip meeting Australian Prime Minister Tony Abbott. The Australian prime minister has defended his decision to honour the Duke with a knighthood, despite a social media backlash.. Issue date: Monday January 26, 2015. See PA story ROYAL Philip. Photo by Tim Rooke/PA Wire
now beyond the hill we live
obscure the view
the fight in our head
the body stretched
a piece tomorrow waiting for goodbye
Poem by Rebecca Sullivan written in Brooklyn NYC, 2012
Music composition by Dan Sullivan
Image By Ben Sullivan
