if i were to tell you
when sunbeams stream over yellow underbelly
a honeyeater feasting between gilding leaves
i wish i could fly up there to sit for a while away
from the pace and chaos of ordinary things
that is where
when i spy the upturned cup of a ghost-moon plump
in a deep blue pillowed afternoon i think i must call my Mum
though i clasped her hand while she passed such a long time since
as the tide rasped its shallow symphony over our last goodbye
that is where
when i stretch to parting-kiss the soft pink cheek
of my son now twelve towering
over me i feel again the wrench as they pulled
him from my ruptured belly
that is where
when breath of sea sends me sailing back to
this rough hand gentle over mine my weathered
trawler-captain father steering me away from jagged territory
into calmer waters (still) sometimes against my will
that is where
when i smell your neck to
fall again over the handrail of our
romantic balcony landing in the toy-scattered
couch of our reality
that is where
when i tumble on a crumpled butterfly ensnared
once more by that man-boy-man who tore my wings
(never mind i put them back together in time)
on dark days you can still see the scars but on bright ones
that is where
i would tell you
that is where
the light shines through
the strongest
