Luminous Bodies

Her old VW
         mows the dirt road
                  to my shack,

past the noiseless fall
         of frangipani,
                  a flash of butterfly

in deep shade.
         We walk in the garden
                  of now,

and find an alcove
         of tenderness
                  behind the melaleuca.

She listens
         to the hidden life:
                  roots drawing nourishment,

sap rising in stems.
         Each twig,
                  an inverse tongue;

each leaf and flower
         a wisdom far removed
                  from knowledgeable din.

Infrangible desire:
         a thousand cicadas
                  throbbing the heat.

Shyly assertive,
         she sings my body;
                  I, hers.

We sing
         the joy
                  of imperfection,

the caress
         of impermanence.
                  Soft tissue,

exquisitely bruised,
         collapses
                  into limb-sized folds.

© James Charlton