from BARDO

The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.

Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made

is star-stuff too?

– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –

dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.

Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.

Roselle Angwin

Saturday, 12 November 2011

where I go out

Drizzle thickens and softens the distance
between me and the willow tree
two clouds like grey apostrophes
hang on the horizon, and between them
all the unspoken questions dangle
in the family of things.

What I want to say is this:
the world has no word for ‘real’.

On the hill the ash tree is on the cusp
of being and becoming, as we all are,
as too above it and invisible and
in their own sidereal time are the stars
and constellations.

The sky’s underbelly has the lustre
of a pearl earring, and dusk, coming in
like a wave, takes on a blue
as thick as breath

where I go out, decide to slip
my skin, begin to dissolve

~ Roselle Angwin

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