Palm and rope
atoms of weariness follow her
she doesn't look across the fence
where he prepares lime
and satisfied
digs underneath the palms
at the churchyard
the bay is flat, the ferry cuts
green water, she ignores the way
rowers haul and sailors tack.
she is inside the hull of herself
she wipes her palm
on her dress pulls rope
and line, prepares
the last slipknot
her weariness falls
out of her, the rope
embraces the centre beam
ofthe old garage,
she drops into hard air,
the rope is on fire,
the last atom splits
palm trees grow beside
her last dark place
above the bay
she wagches sailors working rope
to foil the wind
and digs lime into the weary ground
Poems from 'Ash is Here, So are Stars'
Tracking
Embedded Dreams
Are You Worried About Yourself?
Reviews of 'Ash is Here, So are Stars'
A. Frances Johnson in Cordite Poetry Review
Lucy Alexander in Verity La
Other poems by Jill Jones
The eclipse
Mouth Song
This is Friday high up
Chains
Gold
Interview