ANNE KELLAS


Narcissus in New Town at youngberry time


In the casuarina-soft sky
                         your face.
I am your mirror words
            left waiting wondering
            pinioned on the banks.
Not the poem you wanted to write
                        yelling out
            yellow cries
            purple walls
            tissue paper.
Youngberry globes
            lost planet halves
            balanced in the netted air
            in the planet-wheel garden.
Clematis coils spurl seaward glances
            at the empty panes.

– Don't touch, eel bird, child.