Madeleine’s Letter to Bunting [Day 2] | Kelvin Corcoran

Sun lights the end of the year
the wind has dropped to nothing
Benazir Bhutto has been shot.

We dug experimental holes around the house,
broke a spade and hoe on buried rock
planted songlines, a lemon tree and shrubs.

Sixty Kenyans incinerated in a church
I climbed into the eucalyptus, swinging
through the world like a bug on a blade of grass.

The sea all around on three sides glows,
I grasped the springy boughs in my useless arms
I smelt good and hung on against sense.

This tree has such a colour,
is it blonde cinnamon, and the etymology?
– she might sweep me up if I fall.

At your age I thought I had a plan,
I did not, or it was the wrong plan;
it was not to be fifty and exhausted up a tree.

Speaking the only three words I have
to the local children bemused,
arms numb – Eucalyptus, if I fall, save me.

Excerpted from Madeleine’s Letter to Bunting (Longbarrow Press 2009; subsequently republished in Hotel Shadow, Shearsman Books, 2010).

 

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