SILHOUETTE for Roberta Sykes      [Stefanie Bennett]

 

 

Here is a country where spotted hawks

Preach their tabernacle

Not found in books -

 

And within the bare arms of desert hakea

Green ants fortify

The most meagre possessions.

 

Gold clouds gather an eclipse

Of vacuity; the aurora

Sash slits the histories.

 

I dream how the numbat charts

Its path

- An outgoing legend, while

 

My form is but a tossed mis-

Shapened thing...

A tear

 

On a stone pillow.

 

 

 

MEASURE – Homage Paid    [Stefanie Bennett]

 

 

I thought him shallow

Until he bowed

To “kiss” the ground

- This Dosha

With ‘the trouble’

Emblazoned

On his chest.

 

Lilacs flared and

A sparrow

Held her wing

At half-mast.

            “Sinhala!”

He hissed, the larynx

A dirge

Born of sand...

 

Repeat Sri Lanka

And weep.

 

 

[Dosha/ritual healer. Buddhists ‘kiss

the ground’ with their feet]