Monday, April 1, 2013

Iain Britton

paper-orange philosophy   

first in queue

       you open the door

to the girl with the greenstone



    where one’s beliefs change every day

                       where prayers become power points

                       items of possession

                       healers of hurt

your conversation with her

is predictably about tomorrow

the colour of the fountain

the sunset’s haemorrhaging

couples tucked into whispering

         you approach her softly / by the lake /

                      at the water’s edge

you enter

the prizegiving ceremonies
of her survival - her reliance on walking
through gates / the opening and shutting / each different
each for a particular reason - a walk on the wild side
through panoramas paddocks cities through invisible people

            your friendship with her

                   stops at the lake

        her journey is one of many phases

       here today /       then gone


                  in the next breath

and orange kites

              criss-cross valleys in the sky

she leaves your house every day

follows the path past motels cottages volcanic stones
boats fishermen rivers the living and the dead confessing

she’s there for you for the morning
                               for the evening
                               for meals /           she’s there

because the newspapers say so
because she’s become the main feature /      because

her survival is fixed

on the rose bush
the palm tree
the rows of perennials
your shirts
pegged on the clothes-line                                                                       

she lives on the wild side

          in a town

                which lives on sulphur

                    the tribal directions of a family

               which eats with ghosts

         beds down with ghosts

                        she starts each day

as if things

were pushing her towards the lake

          the galileen waters
          wash her feet
          rainbows beget rainbows
          orange kites grin
          loose pumice
          nudges albino hedge-
          hogs onto the beach

she can’t be ignored

            until all that’s ephemeral

                    is suddenly locked up

       for the night

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