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Sky Burial, Dangaroo Press

Sky Burial

Alum Pot

This is the entrance
to the speech of water,
the exit from the cries
of birds.

Ash and hawthorn stitch
rock lips to the moor:
roots are sutures,
moss makes a green salve
on a void misted with light.

This hole is a magnet
joining bone to bone:
your agility, your warm
wind-tasting skin
to the jarring dark.

Skylarks start up from the moor,
flesh nervous white ensigns;
limestone emerges from grass -
whalebone from deep water.

Alum pot swallows itself,
never-ending breathless gulp
of its stone-hoarse larynx:
the eye’s pupil finds a mirror
of black.

Hands scrabble for grip
at the spray-wet bark of trees,
the cries of gulls ricochet
from the rim of the tunnel
that has reared upright
to let light fall through
a peat beck’s flung prisms.

This is the entrance
and the exit:
Alpha and Omega
of the wind-choked, sky-
dizzy, grass-bewildered
travellers who are dared to fall
into the possibilities
of their lives.

 

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