Bitter Heart
That night, time had a bitter little heart
You against the cool river bank me in the grass
rustling round you
You caught a koura in your hands it warmed and crinkled
a fresh lantern lighting up the valleys of water
I called you a kind of rural magician an aquatic metaphysician
pulling
crunchy life from soft matter and although you laughed you said
the night is giving me a hard time with its slow arm its
fast arm
and so I caught your crying legs and cradled you vastly
*
We walked back to the house and your bed was dense with tiny
sad ghosts
sad ghosts
last winters mice ricketed in soft crooks of skin and
spring lamb bleated wetly at our finger tips
a swarm of lost bees burned darkly between us
*
Outside the red-eared moon curled again and
nipped at its own thin tail,
dreamed of becoming fat on small edible things like us.
*
Later the river carried the koura downstream to perform amongst
the slick pool of eels while
we worked hard to resuscitate the day but
Time has a bitter little heart.
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