You come to me
A couple of breaths away
I can hear them
In my mouth
Gasping your arrival
‘You exorcize God
With the smell of love’ you say
Filling me with your whispering
Emptying me not galaxies
Of floating glories

We are still far
From the stone the poet Brough us
To measure the earth
Rolling it

How can I recite you
A poem
Made from ashes?
I wrote it with my finger
Surfing fell from the sky
Perhaps it was the afternoon light burning
Or human skin and bones
How can the poet tell?
I curved my palm to give a place
Top their dark tiny crystals
Words magically appeared
Little ash memories

You are
The morning secret
My night failed to decipher
Is it too late for another night?
Too late for the late comer that I am?
I will bring you ashmemories
And the fear that harnessed my name
From your lips

*From the collection “Ashpoems”, re.press, Melbourne 2025