- DALE ALLISON
-
Contained by Nias
- I am contained by fever,
contained by Nias
- contained by an island coast
- that spews tsunamis
- by earth
- that wantonly self destructs.
-
- I am contained by noise
- contained by endless roosters
crowing
- by the cardinal call of geckos
- contained by the staccato fart
of motorbikes
- kicked alive below my window
- to ratchet down the broken hill
- contained by the shock-squeal of
a pig
- violated
- and the slow progress of its
dying
- I am contained by the chorus of
dog bark
- and by one that yelps a frenzy
- as though caged
- or constantly beaten
- or prodded into fear
- Wondering if the dog is caged
- to be eaten
- is part of my containment
-
- I am contained by the
decomposing
- of garbage
- and the threnody of rot
- drifting through the window
-
- I am contained by dull thudding
- as a man breaks
- an hour of sticks by hand
- by the metronome drone
- of a timber planer
- sloughing the skin
- of jungle pillage
-
- I am contained by head hammer
- Speculation on how fast I could
crawl
- from this fly-zipped-dome/
- room/building
- if the quaking earth decides
- to reprise
- the death throes
- of a year ago
- and walls start falling
-
- I am contained by a child’s
- falsetto song
- in thickening dusk
- I am contained, when night blots
the window frame.
- by a melancholy guitar
- and the yearning harmonic
of lover’s voices
DALE ALLISON
Feri’s Kite
- Mother do you remember the day
- you handed me the kite? Not my
first kite,
-
- but one of many in my fifteen
years of March,
- the ecstatic windy month. This
kite your last
-
- gift, and the one that I loved
best, although
- I lost it. Not one I’d
wrapped and tied
-
- from sticks and torn green
plastic, this new kite
- was gold and blue, and in the
village sky
-
- my kite was the one that caught
the sun,
- rising and rising, surpassing
hawks and eagles.
-
- But then the wind came to fight
me
- and although I hauled and hauled
-
- and used my wits to spill
- the savage twisting of the air
-
- the twine that sawed my hands
- to pulp was snapped in two.
-
- Still the kite flew, bucking
- and raveling through deep blue
-
- until it found a place of steady
grace.
- You stood beside me, on your
face
-
- the story of what was lost and
what
- the saving for your love had
cost.
-
- That night the kite was in my
dream,
- I fought again the wind
-
- until the screaming jerked me
- from my sleep and the buckling
twist
-
- of floor and earth was our
island lifting.
- It was your kite that pulled me
-
- free to open air. In darkness I
helped
- my father pull away the fallen
beams;
-
- by dawn our hearts were dust.
- Mother, I have spent a year of
dreams
-
- and in each rise and lurching
heave
- you are my kite, your stories
are not
-
- stolen with your face, instead
the grace
- of rising, rising. And my twine
holds true.
|