love

summerlove – with audio

I carry all these

years

of summers

in my body

heat, light, salt water

ache and split

like an overripe tomato

knees, wrists and shoulders

stained by the sun

and worn

like old pyjamas

soft, familiar

hoping it will last

the high hum

late and golden

overblown

sighs the end

of another

season

it’s already darker

now

in the mornings

but still

the ghost-warmth

in clothes just

stepped-out-of

on the floor

oh

don’t leave

too soon

please

love

another one

almost done

 

LISTEN! https://soundcloud.com/clairevetica/summer-love

 

Image: Claire Doble

gotta be – spoken

 

gotta be addicted somehow

to love or painkillers

to pain or lovekillers

substances substantial

stuff

need more of it

must declutter

tracking my macros

on the app

tells me

my hrv is wildly

ordinary

excessive exercise

(and podcasts)

the only way

to quiet

racing thoughts

thoughts of racing

and getting a pb

fuel anxiety

anxiety is fuel

to keep showing up

show up and keep to

the program

progress not perfection

perfection in constant

progress,

cultivate

aesthetic athletic

movement

maintain

motivation

love

and pain

an addict understands

the drive the desire

motivation, smitten

beholden to addiction, begotten

be gotta, be, gotta,

gotta be

 

Spoken version of this poem here:

https://on.soundcloud.com/grfyu

 

Photo by afiq fatah on Unsplash

Danger

let wind kiss skin

starved of affection

waves stroke and soothe

a new years’ benediction

smell of smoke and airline fuel

a change of direction

old perfumes stir memories

pain, and its reflection

all the deeds unpunished

must live in the body

alongside achievements

like running, like love, like danger

unacknowledged

 

Soundcloud: https://on.soundcloud.com/K7Nva

 

Photo by Nadia Jamnik on Unsplash

perpendicular

high on the escarpment

in a train

white cockatoo flies

exactly the speed

wing-beats, pace same

I’m choked

with need

to be

in love?

or grief

tendrils reach

from a thorn-spiked heart

sinuous and green

into the thick undergrowth

lustrous, keen

gymeas ridiculous

Quentin Blake sketch

in a stringybark forest

perpendicular

bridges from

a childhood book

with an old man’s pride

and tragic accident

to overcome

oh!

the ocean glints

and froths

whiteblue, whiteblue

in the distance, so

utterly beautiful

that rock shelf

like bricks, like stones, like fossils and holes

I yearn to be

whole

entirely

immersed

with spray in my face

spindrift, salty

it’s something like homesickness

or lust

ancient craving

carving

can’t explain

the deep interior

sea-cave

heartspace

soul-pain

 

Photo by Ryo Nagisa on Unsplash

 

Summer

her first album

I was back from

Switzerland

calling Melbourne

quite often

listening

catching

the train

on up the coast

on Fridays

 

randomly

I fell

in a moment

unexpected

but so vintage-sweet

 

my cardigan

under the bed

where

your handcuffs

held my grief

that weekend

(he died)

 

and now there’s

a new album

it repeats on

and on and on

her voice

a yearning

for another

happening

 

do I welcome

love now?

summer’s here

again, again, again

 

 

Soundcloud recording of this poem: https://on.soundcloud.com/65nRL

 

Photo: Claire Doble

do you

do you, do you, do you

love me yet?

do you, do you

have you

fallen

no regrets

fucking on a mattress

on the floor

you had no furniture

at all

for months

lived in your car

do you

do you

have you

succumbed

you hobo?

staying up late

frantic words

words, words,

type, write, text

don’t speak

the words

afraid

of what happens

next

if

what?

do you

do you…

suppose

the love

still

spills

out

you love

without

saying it

a frenzy

of avoidance

type, write, text

when

my crazy meets

yours

you’re crazy

I’m

relentless

engulfed

obsessed

tie me

to your bed

play games

with our heads

do you, do you, do you

love me

yet

 

Photo by Tengyart on Unsplash

High hopes

I wake to the taste of

stop n grow

bitter, sweet

with nostalgia

heavy, hot air

laden with Christmas tree

and the dreamsnorts swirl

make me

old, young, like

a glitch between

childhood and progeny

the way your eyes light

when you play a song

beered-up footy men

get teared-up to

singing along

my heart

catches

like a fingernail

in tulle

because I know

what’s inside

you

a betraying all-too-human

love

I guess,

the cynics

would sneer

but you’re 10 and it’s clear

I don’t know

how to explain

like a mirror I see

how you ache to be

understood,

to rise high

above

and be great

in a way

that will

never quite

be attained

in your mind

I just hope

one day you know

I believe

you are

in

every grain of sand

on the beach

 

Listen to it on Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/clairevetica/high-hopes?si=37a6a28f20e24210bc49cee8b7ddcb9b&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

 

Photo: Claire Doble

Nightbird

 

a nightbird calls outside my window

I am sick, so sick in the dark

it’s 4.24 on the morning of your funeral

life makes no sense, there is only love

 

you talk to everyone at the party

buy them gifts, exchange views

share laughs, drinks, stories

my only conversation is with you

 

grab my phone to check messages

that remain forever unread

missed your call, I miss you: indelible

a nightbird’s sick joke you’re dead

 

Photo: Sierra Narvaeth on Unsplash

 

 

Onions & Garlic

 

would it be weird to say

we were all in love with each other

a little bit?

the best friendships

pan out that way

I don’t know sometimes

the difference

between a kiss and a good conversation

when I remember how

she held me close

and put her lips on mine

and the way she writes

as faithfully as the moon

I can get melancholy

on Sunday afternoons

holding memories

listening to Nick Drake

or Cave

ignoring the kids

cooking onions

with love pulsing through my life

beat, beat, beat

in time

and what about that day

you made aglio e olio?

we were all so careful

with each other

so quiet

our eyes, cautious

your bathroom’s cold green tiles

because we wouldn’t

acknowledge

who’d slept with who

the night before

 

Photo: mayu ken on Unsplash

 

A dear friend passed away this week. He made chopping onions and garlic a work of art. He was also someone who read and took time to comment on this blog occasionally; as a fellow writer, he understood how wonderful it is to get that kind of validation! This poem was inspired, in part, by our friendship, as well as referencing various other treasured friends. It reminds me that it’s always worth taking a moment to appreciate the love that beats through your life. RIP JAn, my world is poorer without you but richer for having known you. x