Bronwyn Carter

Ward window

We wait testing freedom.

Palpitating currents bring down
Thoth’s insecure nest; drenched treasures
resting in the gnarled hands of figs’
twisted roots.

on the water-beaten arms of trees.
Of mainsprings draining to oceans,
channelling back to a forgotten vault’s
incarcerated voices.

Slow stream of rehabilitation
hitting my calves like tumbling raindrops:
the gaolers all seem calm
more than they have any right to be.

A gentler pleasure in overflowing pipes
drowning lights; things to snap and frame:
the flood of butts through the hospital garden
mingling with camellia petal carpets
like overnight snowfall.

Severed branches, sheeting rain -
(vestigial remnants of moonlight
draping park benches: blessings)
against which the whole city will complain.

Wind blows them against me like bats.
Love transits from the sun into my dreams
and through to other sides

being born.