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Number 9: Winter 2013

Five Poems

Kate Behrens

 

We Tread Forwards

In a clutch of yellow and blue spheres
(buttocks, bags, turbans, moons)
a piece of diamante, touched, looms red-hot
on the conscience – green bananas, lychees
blur under the railway arch,
where insolent skies gleam eyeball-white,
we tread forwards through bright puddles,
trail behind us almost three hours
(noted, as only the new notice a stiff mouth’s
capacity to still utter words,
their reverberations,
or bats remember their own loud weight).

Years later, whistling while you run the bath
again, carelessly, one loyal foot obeys
without dragging, the stark nature of it
reminds you of last words –
life is indeed ‘rich’, it is ‘miraculous’.