Poets speaking up to Adani – Stuart Cooke

 

To be a Cat Curled

 

 

Loss is days

passing,

the traction of years deflating

the vertical

 

so that a man, once a pearl in a dark mouth,

becomes sound’s flat plane.

 

The beating heart is corrosion,

scattering leaves,

butterflies, leaves.

 

Each mumbling moment.

Each frozen, irretrievable One.

 

Headlines could be the only things that matter;

the rest is just flesh, flow,

proliferation.

This sense that everything’s

the same and what I see – in the way

a tree emerges or an emu speeds – are the tips

of the freezing.

How to keep pace with the sun?

 

Never to falter. To be a cat curled

in the corner of a doorway, smiling dreamily.

Can the dream of shade

moving further out across the grass

ever be reconciled

with this tightening stiff of the gut?

On that note, how to follow a poet’s letters

to the memories of childhood

while fixated

 

upon the streaked darkness, through which

I perpetually, always

without seeing, fall?

 

 

Stuart Cooke

 

‘To be a Cat Curled’ was previously published in Edge Music (Carindale, QLD: Interactive Press, 2011), 15.

 

 

Photos in collage from: CSIRO CC BY 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0) via Wikimedia Commons

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