July 8th, 2008

poetry, exceptindreams

242: The Sea Anemones

“The Sea Anemones”
Gwen Harwood

Grey mountains, sea and sky. Even the misty
seawind is grey. I walked on lichened rock
in a kind of late assessment, call it peace.
The the anemones, scarlet, gouts of blood.
There is a word I need, and the earth was speaking.
I cannot hear. These seaflowers are too bright.
Kneeling on rock, I touch them through cold water.
My fingers meet some hungering gentleness.
A newborn child's lips moved so at my breast.
I woke, once, with my palm across your mouth.
The word is: ever. Why add salt to salt?
Blood drop by drop among the rocks they shine.
Anemos, wind. The spirit, where it will.
Not flowers, no, animals that must eat or die.
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