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CvK |
The Southerly |
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The
Southerly is a greedy lover, a
wind that stirs the sullen trees out
there and wakes me from a shoulder damp
but growing cold as the sullen air cuts the sultry heat in which we lay. You
are no longer here, never were, just
far away like death; and an Antarctic wind
reminds me of where I am, not there but
in the reality of a dream where I gave and took the humidity of a kiss. It all creaks: this house and my dry bones
brittled by the wind that always comes
after heat, gathers at the end of
day and exposes the soft soles of leaves, has caught me this naked night unprepared. And
this arm stirred thirsty from its sleep finds
you glistening in the light of another sun
beside cross the fermenting curve of
earth circled and joined by hand at
woken groin and bathing in the sweat of a dark wind. Published:
Quadrant |