Bronwyn Carter


the night horse blows over me
led by steadying hands who’ve travelled out for meeting
city limits hung with mists, strung with D-chords
and gentler beats: a dawn becalmed.

plates blend finally sweeping metal pulse
under low sky; grey way
walled roads funnel blood.

the air is sweet, the air is cloying;
strapped up in their iron work
terraces incite no latency -
explored remotely anyway.

lives contained as houses
tepid blanket enhanced;
unwinged smooth bird melting
egg skinned and shadowed.

boyfriends nutty skinned with scarlet curls
now dreams; walking ghosts.

and I remember in the black pearl
the quivering, dusted flesh:
it was always this potential rising
quietly in drifts.

drinking absinthe, breast milk and beer,
my heart comes loose and rocks me like a swinging pedal on an old machine.