Second Bottle
Written 6 April 2013 by/between Graham Nunn, Lee-Anne Davie, John Koenig, Fern Thompsett, Rachael Briggs, Chris Lynch, John Wainwright, Cindy Keong, Andrew Phillips, Chloë Callistemon, and a.rawlings.
second bottle
the outdoor table rusts
into autumn
in the kitchen, the ferns
oversee the cooking
sizzling tears of sunlight
spit, bursting daydreams
left over from a day past
trees bend, stretching skeletons
to sift through the mist, nostalgic
father and son
in matching red shirts
trick-or-treat
out of the tree hole
blue tarantula
a bad idea
green ginger wine
and cordial
prudence is for walruses
they shoot dreamers, don’t they?
she measures
happiness
with seasons
waning light
too busy to join us
a howl
the māori totem
looks left
the captain points
south, pack ice
breath whitens
we enter the shadows
of the gorge
beneath us
the pounding waterfall
a group of ruffian boys
emerge glittering wet
hair parted down the middle
memories are lost here
or only live until the skin dries
spring thaw
we watch our snow angels
sublime
waking in white sheets
this beautiful stranger
to look upwards, even
if only for the smell
of cold air
I taste bacon and coffee
from across the room
falling through cream
the dark earth reveals
buttercups
hollyhocks, hostas, Rachael,
then Chris, then Chloë
trumpets of sunrise
a throne
with some good reading
your favourite joke falls
from a paper crown
she must be deaf
to keep singing this way
cicada
she turns to leave
the music strikes a fanfare
a funeral march reversed
moving forward
towards the setting sun
it is always morning somewhere
but time is lost on satellites
the shade of shadows
we walk through
North Korea
twin sister
telling you off again
does it need to be said
when wind chimes
contain the universe’s sighs
if we spoke on in-breaths
would we hear the wind better?
after the phone call
the sound
of rain
denim shorts left behind
tears in the morning
sand dune leap
I land
on Sunday
our sea eagle flies feathers
into my glass
