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From: Vol.10 N.01 – Private: The Transformative Now

stars by daylight 

by Andie Hay
Why is it we forget
over and over and over
this simple thing—my smile tugging
the corner of your mouth, your breath
becoming kookaburra laugh, our collective
pulse tilting the breeze and rippling
over this puddle. Just this. Just 

the play of us, wide and sparkling,
clear as stars scattered across midnight,
and I would carry you here
as gently as I might cradle the child
of myself, and we would brush fingertips
to the soil that holds us both
with its promises of decay
and oh how the night would dress us
in the spiralling threads of this love

In tomorrow's sky, I tilt back
far enough to listen
to your whispered constellations
I smile my way through to them
answering the confused looks
of footpath traffic, pointing—"but don't
they look beautiful in blue?"
the midnight from my eyes
offered as steadily
as starlight to our skin
Published: April 2023
Andie Hay

is currently a PhD student studying the validation of satellite measurements of the ocean. She writes from the waters of nipaluna/Hobart.

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.