Bed of Winter

By | 1 December 2022

Po Po dreams / of glaucoma moon / a white meihua flowering / through alluvial
night / she dreams each strand of light / a stemmed grief / stirring the parable
of her face / dreams each eye unhinging / like swollen figs / as the wok-dark
smoulders her deeper / into the fever of steamed fish / into the incorporeal salt

of ever dissolving dreams / where some nights she awakens / nestled in the strange /
grasses of a half-parted world / seeding the soil with her astonishment / as she slow
dances amongst schisandra leaves / as she skips stones like unhoarded decades /
as she calls out to her grandchildren / gathered on distant plains / their feathery

heads aglow / like meihuas thawing / into impossible morning / & sometimes there
grows a silence / which glistens like apples / the music box of nectar / she cleaves open
to fill the aching / fermata of her hollowed gums / & sometimes she watches meihua
sun / blossom brutal black / beneath reddening sprig of dusk / & she understands

the sea’s greyness / to be a mirror without / the home of its reflection / & all through
alluvial night / she digs out the compass of the horizon / to etch divinations /
into the cicatrix of stars / to omen herself into sky / before geographies of sight /
harden into cataracts of maps / before the slow trains of sleep / bear her back through

the dark wheat of dreams / into the shimmering station / of this snow-rocked room /
of this world she could never / part with / where the blankets sculpt her bedlam /
body into the impermanence of summer frost / & the pale plosives / of her breath
unpetal over her / a white meihua mourning / something unspeakably soft

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