the air is sticky


the air is sticky :: leaves shiver against a window ::

a collar-bone protrudes :: just slightly :: inviting touch ::

which comes in the form of a back-lit memory ::

outside :: machinery & foliage :: the proximate sea ::

 

a collar-bone protrudes :: just slightly :: inviting touch ::

declaring its need to the body’s remainder ::

outside :: machinery & foliage :: the proximate sea

sings & quiets :: complex rhythms :: cloud-banded sky ::

 

declaring its need to the body’s remainder ::

a collar-bone flinches beneath a tactile memory :: which 

sings & quiets :: complex rhythms :: cloud-banded sky ::

memory like a stained-glass window :: liquified :: 

 

a collar-bone flinches beneath a tactile memory which

alights :: a translucent butterfly :: it trembles there ::

memory like a stained glass window :: liquified ::

re-formed in discrete configuration ::

 

alights a translucent butterfly :: it trembles there ::

upon the surface of a collar-bone’s declaration ::

re-formed in discrete configuration ::

then lifts its wings :: in solemn departure ::

 

upon the surface of a collar-bone’s declaration ::

a memory touches upon a need ::

then lifts its wings in solemn departure ::

the air is sticky :: leaves shiver against a window ::





leaf
              worlds



a small leaf

a small leaf :: water-baubles sweetly 

trembling :: just there :: like liquid glass 

on veined-foundation :: one two threely ::

more :: space surrounds :: lively :: quiesc- 

ent :: behind my sheer transfixed eyelid ::

reaching clear-through the dark & turbid ::

such shining :: curvaceous & full 

under a breeze’s push & pull ::

so robust & so delicately ::

light & dark :: also in between ::

a teeming like I’ve never seen 

within clear membrane :: intricately 

world-full & otherworldly too :: 

so tiny :: ancient & brand new 

                          :::

I’ve lost my way :: the sky is greyly :: 

slight smears upon the looking glass :: 

this separation from the daily 

trajectory :: it comes :: it pass- 

es :: where are you :: sweet jacaranda 

shedding of blossom :: sea & sand are 

making their own map over there ::

or closer still :: this charged-up air 

alights upon my naked flesh :: so 

briefly tender :: it flits & flies 

between the lowlies & the highs ::

trembling before the burning threshold ::

close me my eyes & search the light-

streaked darkness here :: inside-of sight

 




[Catherine Vidler’s publications include Matchstick Poems (Paper View Books, 2022), Wings (Cordite Books 2021), 2_154_77_79_38_ 118_41_115_19_137_ 60_96_21_135_58_ 98_9_147_70_86_ 31_125_48_108_12_ 144_67_89_28_128_ 51_105_4_152_75_ 81_36_120_43_113_ 17_139_62_94_23_ 133_56_100_7_149_ 72_84_33_123_46_ 110_14_142_65_91_ 26_130_53_103_2_ 154_77_79_38_118_ 41_115_19_137_60_ 96_21_135_58_98_ 9_147_70_86_31_ 125_48_108_12_144_ 67_89_28_128_51_ 105_4_152_75_81_ 36_120_43_113_17_ 139_62_94_23_133_ 56_100_7_149_72_ 84_33_123_46_110_ 14_142_65_91_26_ 130_53_103 (Hesterglock Press, 2019), and lost sonnets: 3rd iteration (edition taberna kritika, 2019). Catherine’s second poem was inspired by, and written in response to, a photograph by Adam Piette entitled ‘leaf worlds’.]

Copyright © 2022 by Catherine Vidler, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.