The Hanging Air

The hanging air that smokes the house –

Out of the flowered, compacted –

Broadcast flare inflates 

And gasses 

Through the hush.

Cool a-foot, and piercing heat

Inhales a heavy blow –

Letters sent and milky –

Swallowed –

Are sickly, vain.

Sleep now tucks away its shivers,

Folds to liquid dawn,

Nursed by bare arms browning –

Eased –

Loving and alive.

 

Ding-dong bells that name the birds

Drunk as sun upon this hill;

Washing goes around

Again –

The sea purrs.

Wisdom bent by fairy rings,

The buzzing town is cleft;

A cow and moon, the bridge –

Remember –

Blissful, there.

 

© kate marlais 2011

 

 

Man Ray, Lee Miller Solarised (c.1930)