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Warm as the March Wind

Posted by Wild Musette editor on

Warm as the March Wind

by Jenny Blackford

 

His hair is not so thickly darkly beautiful

as it once was, that goldenbright summer

when we first loved, High Priestess and Priest

of our own ecstatic seaside sect.

 

His hands trembled when first they touched

my hands, my throat, my breasts,

in that season of kisses and tears

between the swelling ocean and the yearning lake.

Night after night our bodies sang out each to each

calling from single bed to not-so-distant single bed

that might as well have been on Venus' stormy seas

or Mars' red sand—our yearning

wider than the blue-black gulf

between the stars.

 

I'm glad to say his eyes were never cold.

The March wind's mostly warm here,

though sometimes the sea breeze

brings cool relief for overheated skin.

It never howls like wolves

with blue-grey glacier chips for eyes,

down from the frozen North.

 

His hair's still beautiful, though not so thick

and mostly silver now.

He'll still recite "Byzantium" to me

after a glass or two of wine.

There's not much call for yearning, since

we're seldom more than a few steps apart.

 

But when we yearn,

it's just as wide and blue

as that first year.

 


Jenny Blackford’s poems and stories have appeared in Australian Poetry Journal, Westerly, Going Down Swinging, and Cosmos.  Her poetry prizes include first place in the Thunderbolt Prize for Crime Poetry 2017, the Connemara Mussel Festival Poetry Competition 2016, the Humorous Verse section of the  Henry Lawson awards in 2014 and 2017, and third in the ACU Prize for Literature 2014. Pitt Street Poetry published an illustrated pamphlet of her cat poems, “The Duties of a Cat,” in 2013, and her first full-length book of poetry, The Loyalty of Chickens, in 2017.

www.jennyblackford.com



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