She was wrong
about the sun’s rough unction
& the moon’s loyal honey.
From the length of a body
in focus, the distinct
leaf has lost its life,
its glistening separation.
Her eyes try to force
their stinging energy into
her empty senses, tense
with a tiredness which
snaps & unsockets her sinews.
At the brittle grey windows
a winter kitten ripens
exquisitely misshapen. She
feeds it & it shrinks back, grows
beyond reach of her creation.
Jennifer Maiden is an Australian poet.
