Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

« Previous item
Contents of this issue
Next item »

Jonathan Greenhause

print this page

Parting of Earth and Sea

At midnight, a salamander slides through the underbrush,
its orange tail catching a curved moon's pallid rays
as my wife and I hike through the dense forest,
carrying our burden of secrets upon our backs,
as the river breaks against the banks dressed in shadow.

We're all alone,
so the rustling sound of this sleek salamander,
the dulcet cooing of birds,
and the distant howls of what might be wolves,
draw us together, feeling the presence of our desires
in the tightening press
of our intertwined fingers.

Here, we are lost between two French towns
and beneath a string of stars swimming in a swirl of the Milky Way,
not knowing yet why we've come here.
Several months will pass before our hands
have learnt each furrow, whorl, and wrinkle of the other's
and can dance in their open curves, making love
with heated skin covering our thoughts
in a patchwork of flimsy veils.

The salamander slips through a circle of rotting leaves,
abandoning this darkened spot, where it waited still
for something, seeking the proper moment to retrieve
the hidden needs of their double-purposed kind;
We stare at each other, having seen this amphibious apparition,
this nocturnal precursor to some separate life in store,
and we regard it as a parting of land from water
belying the strained impossibility of their union's,
this joining of two such separate elements as one,
but for a time, married so close.

 

Page(s) 7-8

Back to top