Saturday, 7 November 2009

Migrate - Rebecca Smith

I speak about
the nature of birds
how you are like one;
you trip over your feet’s awkward twigs
Balance, once you’ve found it,
On the edge of flight.
Your words are thick as gravel
still as a lake beneath trees
Slyly I hide things from you
I hide the bright parts of myself
That moment I saw a skyline
refract and break on the sea
thought, this is the cleanest image
I will ever own.
You speak about
the nature of love
as if we’ve found out its secrets.
You’re winging your way

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