“restlessly, driven by leaves.” after a line by Rilke Leaf-sound/sea-sound/bird-sound/ shoved places of air – pockets of autumn/natural languages. * The scuffed water/the swinging fruits/the ruffled gulls - wind with its throat open. * The soaring cold barks at windows like a kept-out dog whines through the small spaces/slows the old. * And in cold’s quiet undertow blood is not quite wide enough/blood clotted on pavements rowanberry red. * My ear to the stone hard/hard a murmur is coming/ a tremble of locked-up hooves. * Jackdaws and magpies land on the treetops. The branches flap/they wave. An old man looks up in his flat cap/ his mouth a shut wound. * Kolya, ghost-white traipsing the ochre-cluttered gardens and Milo, a shadow/ his guts thrust up to his chest. * Autumn/ the days loop-gusts tight to the bone loose to the sky/the lifted holes.
| “restlessly, driven by leaves” from A Wound’s Sound by Gillian Prew. Published Oneiros Books, 2014
A WOUND’S SOUND