Augury

Deceive me

soothe me with the belief

that we'll get no older

that life and truth

are round and simple

lull me to my finger ends

say we are tender

and in the best of health

foretell events with kindness

softly

speak only

of forthcoming happiness.

by Rhyll McMaster

Wattle

Wattle © Jennifer Phillips

What the ear said

Nothing to hear in that hollow. Not boats,
not the cadence of boats and their oars.
Not wood and water and the ferry
to island in a storm, not rain. Not
the repetition of rain and the often loved
sound of trees. Or the sea.
Or the open mouth receiving. Not the lean
of the grief-struck against an oxcart or the low
of the dog caught in that rain. Again
the sound of the heart in the throat, and the too soon
lapse of breath. Again the beat of the foot
against the floor—the speech of the bed-creak
or the priest. Not to hear a cloak or some ghost.
Not moon. Not door. Not the entered shoes of a beautiful
stranger and her door, her moon.

by Oliver de la Paz

Her moon © Jennifer Phillips

Bereft

We connected
you left
lost a friend
to sea and sky.

Feel the gap
you left
my friend
vessel drained.

Feed memories
like birds
we swallow
pale renditions.

Rich gravy
has gone
we sup
empty words.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

From Copyright Free Images

Hellebores

Hellebores © Jennifer Phillips

Burn the garden

In parting we dissolved
tears coursed from my eyes
I spread them on his cheeks
a blessing and a curse.

Tear every tree
up by the root ball
and set fire
to this Southern garden.

Feed our lungs
the smoke
the fire
the ash and soot.

Do not leave even a shadow
of the calm
of the cool
of our touch.

© Jennifer Phillips & "Neon Veil" (All rights reserved)

Tree roots - Murray River © Jennifer Phillips

A blessing and a curse
We'll be fine

A lesser man

Leunig - in Saturday Age - 20 April, 2013