Thursday, 2 August 2012

The Natural History


your body
was a landscape of history –
I’d live inside its mountains
and declines, trace its steep and gentle
rise and fall.
the heat of the earth under your skin
warms your bones,
calcium carbonates –
you tell me
stories of your tectonic shifts,
the old grind,
the backbone of your country
those rocky hills.
those heights and endless depths
match you,
the dark scattering of life upon you –
the liquid core of you.


that breaking bone,
spine of my country.
his monstrous vertebrae
under the crust.
the arch of his back
and cave –

that geographer
shaped the land he walked on,


I am the god
of the wanderer river –
its feet
eat away at ancient rocks,
the endless cycle.
I am
the century’s daughter –
the steaming valley my descent
under the ground.
the tapping caverns
birth a wildness in my skin –
their limestone bones
are the calcium of oceans.
Where I break all things,
their component parts –
the god of the mountains where I grew –
that dominance of ages...
solid earth against my fingers.

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