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Nocturne #2

by Anne Elvey

Vahni Capildeo


I am

so tired and full of tears,

said the threadbare cloth of gold.

Beaten hands, beaters’ hands

rock the monsoon-baby’s crib.


I am

so wakeful and full of fears,

said the fountain in the square.

Visitors, thirsty, put

chapstick lips to dirty pipes.


I am

so mended and full of cracks,

said the walkway to the house;

so careful, so old, so planned

to give support. Say no more.



Nocturne #3

An Australian and international
journal of ecopoetry and ecopoetics.

Plumwood Mountain Journal is created on the unceded lands of the Gadigal and Wangal people of the Eora Nation. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, and to elders past, present and future. We also acknowledge all traditional custodians of the lands this journal reaches.