,

Gravity


after Bic Runga

What sound does it make

when it comes?

The beating of wings
the low slung click of a hip.

When the night closes us down

you practise
without the instrument

grasping and pressing at the air.

Consider
that I wasn’t

in the big big room

in the big big dark.

Consider, I had

my own music.

Rising and swelling

around me.


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In a dream, you saw a way to survive, and you were filled with joy.


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