histories by Reuben Woolley

 

the girl

who danced

the ibis moon……….she brings

the story of it all

& this

is the telling

 

close

 

& personal………….my sudden

consent…….&……..distance

is full………………………….i have

my history here

in the pulse of it all

 

and this is the saying of it

 

the dark days

& my growing

in bones & bodies

& here……………….i’m doing

a telling of it

 

the legs………..& mouths………..& hearts of it

she dances alphabets

in the crescent fire

 

& the boat returns the day

 

*     *     *     *

 

this

is the telling of it all

 

there is mud

& reeds……….& a boat

in the sky…….& i

have names for them

 

the threads of what it is

& what we know……………..she

danced a world for us

 

*    *    *     *

 

in my sinking

sands

things

do not occur successively

like gravity

oh        then

 …i’ll get up

& fly

 

to all my……………….scattered

dependencies

 

it’s what this………………….thing

says

when i’m not looking

 

words

of those hands i haven’t got

just these…………….poor

counterfeits

 

hold…………………..separate

like atoms…………..do not

touch……………she

stirs

the air

the cells are orphans

pointing………………….further

 

she is

maker…………..in every outward

move

 

of that old………………..yellow

crescent

 

*     *     *     *

 

all the rest

is outside

where a feather

is counterweight

 

the ghosts of real

come solid from shade…………..they play

on red sand…………with a girl

who danced a bird

 

wings spread & beating

the ibis & the girl

she danced a boat

sailing she danced a ragged

book

& this

was the telling of it

 

(with thanks to Paul Point at the Chocolate Poetry Club for the filming and editing. Get in touch with him if you’re interested in doing something similar)

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