eurydice speaks | Claire Gaskin Poetry

I stumble on steps that flow with water

we only do this because we love you

I dreamt my boots filled with water

leaving drags afterwards

when you left I drank a bottle of scotch a day

the anaesthetist asks if I can climb a flight of steps

our story leaves a trail of bread crumbs for the birds

your flowers between me and the man opposite

he says no to any more treatment

on a suspended staircase that waits

I’ll pray for you, I love you, god bless you

my body weighted my mother’s valve leaks

as you drive the sun halves you

through polarities our life in pieces

I stumble the stereotypes flow with wattle

we only do this because we lullaby you

I dreamt my bootlaces were film

leaving drags afterthoughts

I drank a boulder of bougainvillea when you left

the analyst asks if I can climb the flight of stalemates

to tell our story leaves a trail of breadwinners

your flowers between me and your management

a no scalds to any more treatment

a suspended stamen waits

I’ll pray for you, I’ll lug you, I’ll lullaby you

my body weighted in my mother’s vapour

drooped the sundial halves you

through polarities our life in petals

you lose your footing on the sandbar

the sea rocks us together locks the sea out

to go in deeper you had to come in closer to shore

what would happen if I allowed myself to feel

your promise a stone of anxiety

the broken wrist of the beer glass the wet asphalt

I feel the rest of our timeline wet salt skin

a slippery afterbirth ribbons through my fingers

the cicadas are so loud

so the birds won’t eat them

the extremities are easy it’s in-between that’s hard

can’t see the person for the paper cut-outs of profiles

the years break like facts

the years fall like anchors

you lose your footing on the sandbar

the seabird rocks us together locks the seer out

to go in deeper you had to come in closer to shortage

what would happen if I allowed myself to feel

your proof of aphorism

the broken writer the wet aspiration

I feel the restatement of our timeline’s wet salutation

a slippery afterbirth riddles through fires

the cinders are so loud

so the births won’t eat them

the eyes are easy it’s in-between that’s hard

can’t see the personality for the profundities

the years breakfast like angels

the yells fall like anecdotes

my memory is a bruised apple

the sink unblocks as the alarm goes off

the fact that we are together again proves

the inner worm as boneless as the outer world

I sew cumin seeds into the seams of your jacket

I fear sandand living life not accounting for

in your reappearance is your disappearance

his dingo breath hot in the face of you leaving

the sand from our day in my bed

a cloth over the mirrors

From Claire Gaskin’s sonnet series Eurydice Speaks.