green leaves & bark dampened black by the rain;
lingering grey in the sky,
the faintest touch of autumn on the wind.
moreton bay fig trees with their tentacle roots &
tangled, embracing arms;
they reach out like a protective parent,
holding back the sky.
i am touched by their thoughtfulness.
the snake-skin remains of a lover lost in time;
these memories defined by the nothing which held them in the first place.
a history unfolds like a serpents' slither,
like a scroll unfurling,
like a nebula exploding;
pinpoints of light in the night sky,
the language of creation, of our creation, of our present,
our souls.
if my heart had teeth,
it would be a wild, unmanageable thing.
it would be a thing which prowls by day & night,
a beast so fierce in its hunger
that the locals would name it something terrible and secret,
& whisper it in horror in their darkest dreams.
she said, "the body doesn't lie."
but she is wrong.
the body is a lie.
it is life which does not lie.