Naarm Bread – a celebration of poetry collaboration

Poem 9

Dear Nick C I’m ashamed to write to you I’m not worthy I’ll never be that washed in moonlight I’ll never be a dark bottomless gothic pool I don’t even have black hair I want to be the wishing well that one of your song characters throws a corpse into – his freshly murdered lover’s hair still tangled with blood How do people talk to their music gods I wish I could be cool about this But in truth I’m all panting tongue when I want to be slinky feline silhouette I feel like I am looking up at a giant with elongated arms and legs It’s too upsetting But I’m writing to say thank-you Because I’m an artist too And something in what you’ve created really got through to me It really got through

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Poem 40

The dream was dressed in black fishnets The dream was to loud The dream was willed by my future self So yes it was scary So I put the dream on the bookshelf behind Patti Smith for safe keeping Where it still haunted me And then one day I took the dream down and tried it on and it still fit

I say:

I reclaim my dream even if it’s too loud and willed by my future self Even if it’s scary I will not put it back on the shelf Slowly, I begin to sing As every sorrow lifts As every hurt heals my dream is growing to fit my self as Patti Smith applauds from the bookshelf

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Poem 48

My madness is a burnt orange fox
Most of the time it is contained to its burrow
Occasionally it draws a crimson streak across life
Like a mandarin cloud at sunset
Its hues echo

 

Oh My Rapture is available from https://gemmawhite.com.au/books/

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